Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed
by Escritora
Summary: Ch14 (at last)!!! It starts with Harry about to commit suicide... and the story unfolds on how his world crumbled and why his love was lost. H/Hr!!! Will he jump and go through with it? Please R/R. Fluff/angst!!
1. I can't stand to fly

1 Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed  
  
Ch 1  
  
I can't stand to fly  
  
By Me123  
  
A/N: Hey, new story. This is the bleakest thing I have ever wrote, NO, I am not suicidal, LOL, I don't wanna be asked that. I just thought about the life behind Little-Mister-Perfect. The poem is courtesy of me, I wrote it, if you would like to read it and more by me check out my collection on this site. The song is "Superman" by Five For Fighting. Thanku all, and please review.  
  
PLEASE NOTE: AFTER THIS CHAPTER, THE REST WILL BE THE REFLECTION LEADING UP TO THIS POINT. SO THIS IS KINDA THE END OF THE STORY IF U WANT TO THINK OF IT THAT WAY.  
  
Disclaimer: I own my beautiful poem! LOL, but nothing else.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"I can't stand to fly...  
  
I'm not that naive...  
  
I'm just out to find...  
  
the better part of me..."  
  
Harry Potter stumbled in the dark, trying to find his way through the opaque night air that seeped into the Gryffindor dorm from the window kept slightly ajar.  
  
He did not have a watch or another such contraption to tell the time, but he figured that it was approximately 2:17 a.m. He had counted every moment, every minute since the lights had been shut out, waiting. Waiting for the noise to die down. Waiting for his dorm mates to slowly drift into their own individual dreams. Waiting for every creak of every floorboard in every corridor of Hogwarts to come to an end. For he needed to come to an end.  
  
Harry was not afraid. He knew he could do it. It was so easy, so obvious, so simple that it made a deranged grin creep onto his face, just thinking about it. Just thinking about the end. The end of Harry Potter.  
  
Who would have thought, he chuckled silently, that the death of the world-famous Harry Potter would be in his own hands? Not Voldemort's or Pettigrew's or Lucius Malfoy's! Who would have ever thought.  
  
He felt around in the smothering darkness for his bathrobe, moving ever so silently as to not wake a soul. His hand rested on something instead that made him want to cry, break out and sob and wrench the insane grin off his face. It was her notebook.  
  
"I'm more than a bird...  
  
I'm more than a plane...  
  
I'm more than some pretty face beside a train...  
  
And it's not easy... to be me..."  
  
The soft fabric of the notebook's simple cover felt cold against Harry's raw fingers. So cold, so dead, so lifeless. "Cold and dead and lifeless like everything else!" he screamed inside his head, trying to push the notebook away from him, to banish it, make it go away. Make it all go away. But it wouldn't.  
  
His actions were involuntary; he was opening the journal, carrying it to the balcony where he sat, cross-legged, so calmly on the cold plastered ground. Looking out, he could see the clear night sky, sprinkled lightly with only a few burning stars. He heard himself mutter "Lumos" and he saw the words, the cursive ink printed in her notebook. And slowly, so slowly, he read the words of the first page aloud, voice trembling:  
  
  
  
You are the candle  
  
And I, the flame  
  
As I burn for you  
  
Burn with you  
  
In our fiery game  
  
The slightest breeze threatens us  
  
You the candle, I the flame  
  
And it's more than you can handle  
  
Handle in our fiery game  
  
  
  
I flicker as the wind  
  
It threatens to douse  
  
You, the candle, my support  
  
But where are you now?  
  
You, the candle, my support  
  
I'll stand strong for you somehow…  
  
  
  
A silent tear rolled down Harry's cheek but he did not notice. "Where are you now..." he cried to the cruel night sky, but it only sat still, omitting no reply. "Where are you now..." Her words were so true, so earnest that Harry had to bite his lip and seal his eyes shut so tightly that it hurt into oblivion, just to keep from whimpering. She was his support. But where was she now?  
  
"Wish that I could cry...  
  
Fall upon my knees...  
  
Find a way to lie...  
  
About a home I'll never see..."  
  
He stood up shakily, pleading with himself not to go on and read more of her precious words; he feared that he could not take it. But what's not to take, he mused silently, for I'll die in a few moments anyway. But Harry found that reading her poems and truths were a much harder experience then death. Death would be mercy to Harry's hurting soul.  
  
Life used to be so easy for Harry. He was famous, everybody loved him, he was a powerful wizard who had defeated the Dark Lord, had great best friends and one amazing girlfriend. Why did this have to happen to him? Why did this have to happen to her? But it's ok, he licked his lips, because I'll be with her soon. I'm coming.  
  
"It may sound absurd... but don't be naive...  
  
Even heroes have the right to bleed...  
  
I may be disturbed... but won't you concede...  
  
Even heroes have the right to dream...  
  
It's not easy to be me..."  
  
"Even heroes have the right to bleed," he told himself, assured. He placed the notebook down on the concrete of the balcony, daring himself to walk forward. Each step he took made him more sure, every thought he took made him less. Harry shook his head, attempting to clear his muddled thoughts but it only scrambled them more. It only messed things up more.  
  
Harry's sensitive ears pricked up, hearing the slightest of stirs in the boys' dorm. He did not breathe for thirty seconds, until he was sure that whoever had rolled over or groaned or whatnot had settled back down into a deep sleep. He wondered that, if he were to scream, it would make his dorm mates up. The thought was so twisted that he dismissed it. But anything was better than nothing inside his numb head.  
  
"Up, up and away from here... away from me...  
  
It's all right... You can all sleep sound tonight...  
  
I'm not crazy... or anything..."  
  
He closed his eyes, sure that if he squeezed them tight enough it would all end. "Then end it!" he screamed in his head. "Make it stop! Just end it all!" He nodded, knowing that there was no point for further delay. "I'm coming," he choked out aloud.  
  
Harry did not allow himself to glance back to where the notebook lay desolate. He clutched the gold railing to the balcony. It was cold to touch in the cool night air, and he shivered. Shivered as if it was a cold day at Hogsmeade, not the last minute of his life. His last breaths, last thoughts.  
  
"I can't stand to fly...  
  
I'm not that naive...  
  
Men weren't meant to ride...  
  
With clouds between their knees..."  
  
He climbed up on the balcony, his feet crying for their lives. He stumbled, the half-foot square railing holding him up only scarcely. If I don't jump, he breathed, I'll fall. Harry took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. I'm ready now. And he bent his knees, ready to jump.  
  
"How did this happen?" Harry quivered aloud, letting a faint breeze burn his cheeks. It all came back to him.  
  
"...It's not easy to be me…"  
  
  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
A/N: I hope u like. Remember, everything else will be leading up to this. I will remind u at the beginning of the next chapter. Please be kind and review. Thanks!  
  
Love, Me123 


	2. I'm not that naive

A/N: Thanks for my reviews—11, wow! I am very happy! ::does happy dance:: Here's your chapter, as promised, and I hope you didn't wait too long for the fluffy-soon-to-be-angst goodness!  
  
Ah, yes: I decided to make every chapter the subsequent line in the "Superman" song. Good or bad idea? People, I need to know! LOL, ty!  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is JK's. Enough said.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^  
  
  
  
Harry Potter strode down the corridor, feeling like he was on top of the world; no, beyond the top. He was soaring through the clouds with a one- way ticket up. And he heard a voice. "Are we going to sit down and take this?"  
  
"No!" echoed a sea of voices in unison.  
  
"I said, 'Are we going to sit down and take this?'!"  
  
"No!" the voice cried, even louder than their previous outburst. Curiosity caught Harry and he turned into the auditorium where the voices were originating. The first thing he saw was the back of a head. The backs of a myriad of heads, actually, for the auditorium was packed, wall to wall, with Hogwarts students. It was a rally of some sort. After pushing his way to the front, and getting several elbows to the ribs in the process, he managed to make out the person ranting on stage.  
  
"Hermione!" he called, cupping his hand over his mouth to keep his voice from getting lost in the crowd. She spun on her heel and spotted Harry. Waving joyously, she beckoned for him to meet her on stage as the students filed out of the room.  
  
The silence died down and Hermione broke into a grin. "Harry, it's great to see you!" She wrapped her arms around him and they embraced for a minute until she released him. "Look at you!" she laughed. "You look great!"  
  
"You too, you too," he agreed.  
  
"We weren't… I mean…" she was obviously at a loss for words as her expression broke into concern. "We didn't know if you would be coming back this year… after…"  
  
"I know," Harry nodded solemnly. He swallowed hard, but tried to smile. "But nothing could keep me from our 7th year!"  
  
This seemed to reassure Hermione of Harry's well-being and she led him down from the platform. "So, what were you orchestrating in here?" Harry asked her, remembering that she had been the one screaming her head off onstage.  
  
"Oh," she said, blushing faintly. "I was organizing a, er, protest. Y'see, Harry… um, well, Hagrid…"  
  
"What about Hagrid?" Harry asked urgently, his voice rising. "Is he okay?"  
  
"Harry…" she said softly, avoiding his intense green eyes. "They fired Hagrid before this term." She looked up to see his jaw had dropped and his eyes burned furiously. "Don't worry, Harry, we've got posters and publicity and—"  
  
"WHY?" Harry erupted, cutting off the petite brunette mid-sentence. She looked away, refusing to reply. "Mione… please…" He touched her shoulder gently, pleading for an explanation.  
  
"They said that he was indirectly involved in… what happened…" said Hermione slowly. "Harry, I'm sorry. I really am." She met his eyes painstakingly to see that they were numb, staring off far past her at nothing particular. She tensed and breathed heavily as he briskly brushed past her and ran down the hall. She had a funny feeling that she knew where Harry Potter was heading.  
  
Hermione took off after him, her soft brown waves flying back as she ran, her equally gentle brown eyes open wide with concern. She found her way out of the Hogwarts doors, the night air cold and harsh against her smooth, pale skin. Her long pink cotton sundress swayed with the breeze and she shivered involuntarily, folding her arms as she strode across the outside grounds to warm herself. Sure enough, she watched Harry disappear into the Astronomy Tower from a distance.  
  
The stone stairwell seemed to encircle Hermione as she dashed up them in pursuit of Harry. She reached the top, panting breathlessly, and looked out to see Harry, leaning out of an open window. "Harry, don't!" she wailed, fearing that he may have prospects of jumping. He twirled around suddenly to face her flustered face.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry stated, his expression bewildered. He began to back away from the window and toward the wall. "Why did you follow me?"  
  
"I… I was worried," she sighed, brushing a stray lock of her chocolate hair from her blushing face. "And from the looks of where you were, for good reason."  
  
By Harry's facial expression, it seemed to take him a minute to comprehend this. "I wasn't going to jump!" he protested, an amused grin forming on his face. "Wait, you thought…"  
  
Hermione suddenly felt abashed, and then angry. "Shutup!" she frowned. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, is that so terrible?"  
  
"Nah…" Harry said softly; Hermione noticed that as he trailed off, he seemed to stare at her, searching her face for something. "Hermione?" he said huskily.  
  
"Uh… huh…" she said, realizing how close his face was to hers. Was he going to… say something?  
  
"Nothing," he replied obstreperously, smirking cruelly.  
  
"Harry, you stupid bloke!" she shrieked, holding up her hands threateningly. He laughed and maneuvered his way past her and bounded down the staircase, Hermione at his heels. The wind mussed his already disheveled black hair and he laughed into the night as Hermione caught his shoulder from behind and pulled him to the grass. "Ow, ouch!" he winced as she jabbed him in the ribs several times. "Mione, ow!"  
  
"That's what you deserve!" she said, now laughing rather than frowning. "Aaah!" she giggled as Harry caught her arm and pulled her down. They lay on the dew-covered grass for a minute, breathing heavily. As she caught her breath, Hermione propped herself up on her elbows and turned to her friend, a demure expression falling on her face. "Harry, I can't tell you how scared I was… we all were," she confessed, her eyes watering softly. "We didn't know if… if you…"  
  
"Hey," he said gently, trying to lift her spirits, "Mione, it's okay. I'm okay." He clasped her hand in a friendly manner and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Everything is fine. But about Hagrid!" His voice turned bitter and his expression sour as he stared with enmity toward the towering school. "He didn't cause this, you know that!"  
  
"I know," Hermione snapped sharply, suddenly feeling as if she had been accused of something. "Why do you think that I'm protesting it?"  
  
"And Ron?" Harry questioned suddenly, rolling over to face her once more. "What does he think?"  
  
"Harry…" Hermione quivered sadly. "You know Ron doesn't talk to me anymore."  
  
Harry nodded, as he had expected that. "Who would have ever expected. Ron Weasly, becoming a supporter of—"  
  
"Please don't say it!" Hermione cut him off, cringing at the thought. "I don't want to think about it, Harry."  
  
"Do you think…?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you think that it's my fault, Ron going dark and all?" Harry asked, his green eyes lined with guilt. "I mean, if I had been there instead of—"  
  
"Stop it, Harry." Hermione was crying a little. "Please, just don't."  
  
"Who's out there?" Harry and Hermione tensed as a crotchety old voice pervaded the air. "Come on, my pretty, you can find those filthy students."  
  
"Filch!" they both hissed under their breaths. Hermione gulped nervously, knowing that this could oust her as Head Girl. She motioned to Harry; they crouched, creeping silently along the grass and toward the school. Her breathing was rapid with nervousness and she tried to silence it, but it was futile. She was rasping by the time that they reached the indoor corridors.  
  
They slinked up the Gryffindor tower. "What are you doing up? It's midnight!" Sir Cadogan yawned, perturbed.  
  
"Slinky dog!" Harry whispered urgently, and he yanked Hermione through the portrait hole just as Filch rounded the corner. They tumbled into the common room, laughing from the built-up adrenaline. Sprawled on the floor, breathing heavy, they fell asleep within a few moments.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Well, looky here!" cooed a giggling voice. Harry forced his eyes open to see Lavender Brown and Dean Thomas, arms linked, standing over himself and Hermione. He shook off the drowsiness flooding his mind and disentangled his arms from Hermione's.  
  
"G'morning," he grumbled, eyelids drooping. "What time's it?"  
  
"Eight," Dean replied, checking the wall on the clock briefly. His smirk turned serious. "It's good to have you back, Harry."  
  
Harry nodded, sick of everyone saying that. He had survived, he was there—what more was there to say? He still dreaded seeing Ron, afraid that Ron's statements may be severely differing from everyone else's. Harry shook off the thought and woke Hermione.  
  
"Herm?" he whispered, trying to get a sign of life out of her still body. She rolled over, annoyed. "Mione, it's eight; wake up!"  
  
"I… love… you…" she mumbled.  
  
Harry's face went white; he was baffled. Had she just said… He swallowed hard. "Hermione… wake up!" She sat up groggily and looked at him blankly. Harry pulled at his collar nervously.  
  
"What time is it?" she yawned. "I'm exhausted!"  
  
"Er, eight."  
  
"What's wrong, Harry? You seem so nervous?" She stretched her arms above her head.  
  
"She must have been sleeping," Harry assured himself, silently. "She probably didn't even know who was waking her… I shouldn't jump to conclusions!" But as Harry watched Hermione sleepily make her way into the girls' dorm to change, he couldn't help but think over and over again in his mind, "She loves me…"  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^  
  
A/N: Hello, fluffy, I guess, but the angst will return! Muchachacha! Anywhatsits, I realize u must have lots of questions… like about Hagrid, why Ron is evil, and what happened with Harry that everyone's worried about. That's what authors like me like to call "suspense" and "foreshadowing." Don't hate the author, hate the game! LOL, j/k… well, I got more than ten reviews so I am oh-so-pleased! Thanks to everyone!  
  
Mwarren—hey, ur not online! Sobsob… well, thanks very much mi amigo!  
  
Miss Spinn—Thanks so much! I saw that u reviewed my poetry and I can not thank u enough! That was sooooo nice! I added another poem just a few minutes ago. Here's your delayed second chapter! Thanks again!  
  
Kay—LOL, here ya go! Thanks!  
  
Sammi—Yes, I love Superman song too. It is sad, hopefully plot will develop well. Sorry so slow! I have been working hard on my other story, Road trip. Please check it out!  
  
Bookworm4ever—LOL, thanks very much. This is my first H/Hr… ok, anyway, thanku!  
  
Nick—ok, thanks lots!  
  
Black Eyeliner—I read ur story and loved it soooooo much! I re-read it all the time. Well, thanks very very very much for such a nice review. I looked for the song you mentioned but I could not find it. Thanks verrrry much!  
  
Angel-Undercover—Thanks! I am doing so…  
  
Melly08—thankkkku! I continue, I continue…  
  
Archangela—anytime, and thanks so much!  
  
Katie janeway—Thank you more than anything! I am soooo glad u liked my poem ::beams:: Thanks indefinitely!  
  
And another chapter is complete… thanks to all the reviewers, this was made possible by u! If you'd like to read some poems, including the one in chap1, then do go and read my collection by all means! And, my story Road trip has been doing fantastically. Last time I checked, 154 reviews so please do go look! I appreciate it very much!  
  
Estoy haceindo mi tarea tan tengo que ir… gracias y adios… 


	3. I'm just out to find

PLEASE NOTE! I CHANGED MY PEN NAME FROM Me123 TO Escritora SO THAT'S MY NEW NAME! SAME PERSON AND STORIES, JUST NEW NAME… THANKS!  
  
  
  
A/N: Evil cliffie, well, I don't do it often so live w/ it. I've been going for ten reviews per chapter and seeing that I have 21 for two chapters I am oh-so-pleased. He he... Well, the name of this chapter is "I'm just out to find" although the unofficial title is "Once upon a time, anyway" Well, thanks for reviewing and stuff! Here ya go!  
  
Sorry it's been a couple weeks. I've been working hard on "Road trip." It's a cool sotry, I guess, and I'm up to 200 reviews! *grins from ear to ear*  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own Harry Potter. I won't sew Harry Potter. I mope low scary fodder. My trope show carries daughters. Wait...?  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Harry sat in Potions, passing his quill from knuckle to knuckle as he often did while deep in thought. His eyes never left Hermione. She was sitting on the far side of the room, working with Dean Thomas. Sure, Harry knew that the partners had been assigned, but did she have to giggle like that with him? Did she have to twist her brunette locks around her fingers so flirtatiously? Did she have to say that she loved Harry that morning?  
  
"H-Harry?" Neville Longbottom had been his assigned partner unfortunately. Nev was a good chap alright, but terrible with potions and undoubtedly he'd end up getting some sort of horrible curse on Harry in the form of green ooze. "Harry, w-we need to, um, add the, uh--"  
  
"I know," Harry snapped, although he hadn't meant to sound so sharp. His eyes softening, he said much more gently, "Sorry, Nev. Three dungbeetle wings, right?" Neville nodded, still trembling. The timid boy reminded Harry so much of Nev's late great-uncle, Quirrel, only Neville was kind- hearted.  
  
Harry's eyes fell on Draco Malfoy and his partner... Ron Weasly. Ron's brown eyes were perpetually narrowed and his lips formed a twisted scowl that Harry had never expected possible. Even Ron's red hair seemed to be harsher and darker. He felt his breath caught in his throat; it was the first time he had actually looked at Ron since... since he had heard of Ron's "change."  
  
"I never should have left," Harry muttered.  
  
"What?" Neville asked, sorting the wings. Harry grimaced, realizing he had spoken aloud, and shrugged it off. "Do you... I mean, should I...?"  
  
"I'll add them," Harry agreed, feeling bad that Neville had been doing most of the work. Harry's mind had just been distracted, and for good reasons. Hermione was still laughing with Dean, and it looked like he was scooting closer to her. Harry realized he was staring, unblinking, at them, as if he could move her stool away from him by doing so. And of course Ron was smirking with Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, who had wandered over to them and had her arm draped around Ron sleazily.  
  
"POTTER!"  
  
Harry snapped his head up and jerked out of his thoughts. Snape was staring, face frozen, at them, his mouth wide in mid-scream. Everyone had stopped to look; Ron and the Slytherins' curious eyes bore on him, and Hermione's giggle had stopped and she was staring with Dean. Then Harry heard the screams. He slowly looked down, breathing hard. His cauldron was ablaze with green fire! "How the hell did this happen?" Harry exclaimed. He hadn't even touched the cauldron, and Neville was still re-counting the wings.  
  
For a single millisecond, Harry caught Ron's eye. And Ron's brown eye wasn't sneering or anything, it was just Ron. Ron was frightened, taken aback, surprised, scared. Harry blinked, and the second was over. Ron was laughing maliciously with the Slytherins about it as Snape fruitlessly tried to calm the strange fire with his flailing arms.  
  
"AAAAAAAAA!!!!" Snape's eternal wail was like nothing Harry had ever heard, and he had been on both ends of the Crucatious curse all too many times.  
  
"Omygod!" Hermione leaped from her seat and bent down by the twitching professor. "He's out," she announced to the class with a foreboding feeling. Dean ran to get help.  
  
"It's spreading!" Harry croaked, finding his voice as the green flames danced along the tabletop. He turned desperately to Ron and grabbed his shoulder. "Ron!" Harry requested earnestly.  
  
Ron turned and practically spat out, "What the hell do you want, scar face?" Harry blinked in amazement. He had never expected... he had never thought.  
  
"R-Ron, remember that spell with the extinguisher? Do you think that would work?" Harry tried to remain calm. How could his best friend have just died inside like that? Harry almost felt like crying, but he didn't. The situation was too dire to break down and be laughed at by Ron and his Slytherin friends.  
  
"Listen, ass," Ron said snidely. Draco chuckled. "I'm sure you and your little Mudblood girlfriend can fix it all by yourself." Harry knew that his stunned face was being studied, for Ron smirked with satisfaction. "In the meantime, we're saving our own asses." Harry watched motionless as Ron and Draco led the Slytherins out of the room casually. At the same time, the fire caught the floor and began trailing around the room.  
  
"Everybody out!" Harry heard some frantic voice scream. He watched, glued to his spot. Everything was in slow motion to him, and there was no noise. It was as if he was watching it from far away, like a video on mute, running so slowly. Dean and Seamus Finnigan were dragging Snape out of the room. Hermione was gathering the Gryffindors who were too afraid to pass around the green flames. Ron had disappeared down the hall with the Slytherins, but it was the only sound he heard. The ringing of their scornful laughing broke through the muteness of his mind.  
  
"Harry! Harry!" A distant voice was getting louder, and he felt Hermione at his side, tugging on his arm. "Harry, we need to get out." He nodded at the urgency in her crystal-clear voice and they cautiously stepped over the leaping flames and made a dash for the door.  
  
They stood, heeling over and coughing in the corridor along with the rest of the Gryffindors. Harry felt a brick load of stress lifted off of his shoulders as Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey appeared from around the corner, running at full speed.  
  
"Everyone, back to your designated houses!" Dumbledore commanded over the commotion. His calm voice was like a savior to the distressed Gryffindors. "All of your classes will be cancelled for the day! Please remain in your respected houses!"  
  
Harry sought out Hermione and Neville and they staggered toward the corridor. Neville was coughing hard, and he sounded so raspy. "Nev, are you okay?" Harry asked warily as Neville practically reeled over. Nev nodded while coughing, but Harry wasn't convinced. "Nev, go to the infirmary, please," Harry pleaded. Neville was shy and timid, sure, but stubborn. Still, the pallid boy nodded. It was obvious that he needed medical attention. He remained stubborn, however, in insisting that he not be accompanied.  
  
"I saw Ron," Harry said quietly as he and Hermione began the trek upwards to the Gryffindor common room. "He's so... so..."  
  
"I know," Hermione said, and Harry realized that it must have been hard on her too. They had all been best friends, once upon a time anyway. "He's so like a Slytherin. Like Malfoy. They're practically... best friends." Harry noted the sob in her voice as she said "best friends." "Let's not think about it, okay?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Hermione, wake up!" Harry climbed up on Hermione's bed and towered over her. She was sleeping on her side, and she had pillow creases on her wrists and a dark one running up her cheek. "Correptil!" Harry thought she'd appreciate the fact that he had made that one disappear. "Mione… Wake up!"  
  
"Huh?" She rolled over and jerked up in surprise when she saw Harry. "Harry, you're not supposed to be in here! It's the girls' room."  
  
"Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday dear—"  
  
"Oh dear god," Hermione sighed, hitting him with the pillow from under her head. "Not this again." But Harry's grin stayed and he continued singing right through the how-old-are-you-now's?  
  
"Aren't you happy? It's your 17th! Come on, I have presents!"  
  
"Presents?" Hermione's head tilted up. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Harry just laughed and excused her while she dressed.  
  
He waited in the common room, bouncing the wrapped present from hand to hand. He hoped she'd enjoy it, for it wasn't much. Harry stiffened as Ron sauntered in, but didn't notice Harry's occupancy of the room. "Her birthday…" He heard Ron mutter as the tall redhead kicked the carpet by the fireplace.  
  
Ron spotted Harry and simply scowled. Harry was afraid Ron was going to say something when Seamus came trudging out of the boys' room, rubbing his eyes. "Neville stayed in the infirmary last night. He got some of that smoke in his lungs," Seamus yawned, not noticing the tension. "Don't know how that fire started, Harry."  
  
Harry turned his head swiftly as he heard Ron snicker from the point where he stood idly. "They say Professor Snape's going to be out for the whole year," Seamus continued. Harry wasn't listening, however. He had risen and was advancing towards Ron.  
  
Ron doubled back in surprise as Harry pushed him firmly. "You cursed the cauldron!" Harry accused, anger bubbling up as he seethed with fury. "You did it, it was you!"  
  
Ron pushed him right back, square in the shoulders. "You have no proof, so why don't you mind your own damn business?"  
  
"Maybe this is my business!" Harry hissed, feeling his knuckles roll into a fist. He reared back, ready to throw the punch.  
  
"Harry! Ron!" Harry froze in position and he and Ron looked to where Hermione stood, gaping. "Stop it, please."  
  
"Well it's not the Mudblood's business," Ron said coldly, staring Harry straight in the eyes. Harry lunged at him, infuriated and blind with rage, but two pairs of strong arms from behind held him back.  
  
"Seamus! Dean! Geroff me! Geroff!" They finally answered to Harry's protests as Ron quickly strode out of the common room with a smirk of satisfaction.  
  
"He's not worth it," Hermione said gently, but Harry could hear the pain in her voice. How could Ron do this to her? Forget Harry, it was obviously killing Hermione. And yet, she still smiled weakly and sat down on the couch, fingering the bow on the present. "I believe this is for me?"  
  
Harry swallowed and nodded, attempting to be cheerful. "Happy birthday, Hermione." She smiled gratefully and began ripping the scarlet wrapping, for there was no card.  
  
"Harry! It's wonderful!" She gripped him in a soft embrace and Harry felt himself blush. She let him go and admired the lilac fabric covering the notebook. Hermione opened it and inhaled the fresh flower scent. "Thank you so much, Harry, thank you!"  
  
Harry was surprised the present had gone over so well, and he felt good. He watched her genuine smile lining her face and her rosy cheeks. ^And I'm the cause. I'm the one who made her this happy…^  
  
The door swung open and they all looked up. "Ron?" Hermione questioned, her smile slowly fading into anticipation. He was just standing there.  
  
"Happy birthday…" he said, the mocking sneer never leaving his face. "…Mudblood." And he left once more.  
  
"Bastard…" Dean scowled, placing a comforting arm around Hermione's shoulders and giving her a squeeze. "Ignore that prat, Mione. He's not worth the tears."  
  
She nodded, but Harry could tell she was concentrating completely on not crying. "Come on, Mione." He took her hand and gently pulled her up and away from Dean's grasp conveniently. "Let's go get you a tissue." She said yes with her eyes and he led her out into the hallway and toward the infirmary.* As soon as they stepped out, she broke down crying. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do.  
  
So he spoke. "Hermione, I should have been there. I should never have gone off by myself... It was selfish and foolish of me. And dangerous and, again, foolish. If I had been at Hogwarts instead of... well..."  
  
"Stop saying that!" Hermione's shrill voice was full of unbridled angst as she glared at Harry through pained eyes. "You did a good thing, Harry, and it's not your fault! It's not your fault Hagrid got fired! It's not your fault Ron went dark! And it's not your fault that Voldemort is back!"  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
*I'm well aware that they probably have tissues in the common room. I just needed to get them alone, kay?  
  
A/N: Thanks for reviewing people! Sorry for cliff, I'm evil. Don't hate the author, hate the game!  
  
  
  
Kay--Close with your translation. Pretty good. Pues, Cada beso comienza con Kay, tan con tu nombre en mente estoy escribiendo un beso en un capítulo que está viniendo pronto. (Well, every kiss begins with Kay so with your name in mind I am writing a kiss in a chapter that is coming soon.) Gracias!  
  
Satans Little Princess--Yes, I have. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Cutie Blossom--Thanks, glad you like the ending. I like confusing little Harry.  
  
bookworm4ever--Thanks, trickiness is my middle name. Actually, it's not, but same thing.  
  
Nicky--We will find out soon! Thanks for your review and glad u like!  
  
hazeleyez--Thanks so much, I love when ppl think what I write is orginal. If you wanna check out some other stories I think are orginal try: Damien by Sarah Black, What to Really Expect When You're Expecting by jen, All You Need is Love by MochaButterfly, Lady Katie of Gryffindor by Cho87, Shades of Lavender by Black Eyeliner, and The Misadventures of Cassandra and Ravenclaw by Elle B.  
  
erisedilla--LOL, that's what this is. Thanks sooo much!  
  
janelle--I'm sorry for the sadness of the first chap... Thanks, I'm glad u like the suspense!  
  
Black Eyeliner--It's fine, your spanish is good. Thanks sooooooo much, thanks foreverness. Please update Shades of Lavender soon!  
  
Miss Spinn--Thanks a million time. Oh yes, please do read Road trip. The chapters aren't too long so it will only take a couple minutes each. The chapters have been getting longer, though. Thanks billions!  
  
And another chapter has been processed and found fit. Thanks to you all, you make this sotry good! I love suggestions, they make me happy so go on... Que dia aburrida! Pero, me encantan los sabados y va, Rotura Del Resorte!  
  
Adios...  
  
  
  
And I'm out... 


	4. The better part of me

A/N: Hi!! Been so busy w/ my other stories that this poor one got neglected, I'm sorry. Well, it's not too long and not too short so I hope you're pleased. I'm in a weird sort of mood and SNL is on, so thanks for all the reviews and everything.  
  
The story of what happened w/ Harry should begin to unravel in the next chapter. I know I've dropped some hints, but it will begin to become much more clear. Thanks for your patience!  
  
Disclaimer: El señor Dani es mío, pero no son Harry Potter y su amigos.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Harry absently walked to Potions; his feet knew the way and were working automatically, but his mind was quite busy replaying Hermione's words from that morning. Shortly after speaking them, she had stormed off in a fit of tears, leaving Harry speechless.  
  
There was talk of a new Potions teacher for the year while Snape recovered, but he or she hadn't arrived yet as Harry pushed open the door, immediately making a face at the smell. Apparently there was an odor left by the green fire that had badly burned the desks, floor, and chairs, but magic had quickly renovated the room. In fact, it looked almost retro with a casual green carpet and blue and white decor. Snape had definitely NOT had a say in this!  
  
Harry wondered if Hermione was mad at him, and if he should sit there. If it had been only a year ago, he could've sat with Ron and pondered over what was the deal with the female species, but that wouldn't be happening any time soon. Ron, of course, was hanging over with Malfoy, Parvati, Crabbe, and Goyle.  
  
Harry heaved a nervous sigh and sat beside Hermione, waiting for her reaction. She just turned, smiled politely, and said, "Hello" as the bell rang.  
  
"She's late," someone snickered from the front table, but otherwise everything remained silent. It was Potions class, and Snape or not, the students were used to being as silent as it gets when that tardy bell rang.  
  
An awkward moment passed and was suddenly interrupted by a commotion in the hallway. A young man walked in, wearing the strangest clothes and bantering with whom he was being followed by... Filch?  
  
"I AM THE CARETAKER AND IT'S MY BUSINESS TO KNOW!" Filch boomed, his crazy eyes narrowed with bitter anger.  
  
"Too bad for you," the young man smirked, setting a leather suitcase down on Snape's hardwood desk. "If I say that I'm the new Potions professor, then you have no reason to doubt me." Harry shot Hermione a confused look, but she seemed just as bewildered.  
  
"THAT'S IT! I'M GOING TO GET DUMBLEDORE!" Filch threatened at the top of his lungs, and pointedly looked at the man for a few seconds that seemed to stretch out forever. Everyone in the room remained silent, dead as the night.  
  
After what must have been ten seconds, the unfazed young man replied, "I may be new, but even I know the way to his office. Do you need assistance?"  
  
Filch fumed and stormed off, muttered curse words loud enough for the whole class to hear as he disappeared down the hallway. Nervous laughter slowly was secreted by the students.  
  
"Hola," said the man, standing in front of the class casually. He wore khaki slacks and a white collared dress shirt with the top four buttons undone and sleeves rolled up. "Me llamo Daniel Chávez. Soy vuestros nuevo profesor de Pociones." He stopped and looked at the class. Their faces were blank, obviously confused.  
  
"Does anybody speak Spanish?" he asked. After a few moments without a response, he continued, "I'm Daniel Chávez. I'll be teaching Pociones for the rest of the school year. I advise that you begin learning some Spanish, if not for my class, for life. It's becoming quite the popular language."  
  
Hermione raised a tentative hand. "Er, sir?"  
  
"Call me Señor Dani, ¿vale? I was never too happy with my family name," he replied.  
  
"Uh, Señor Dani--"  
  
"Better make that Dani," he decided, after hearing her say señor as "senn- ore."  
  
"Dani," Hermione tried again, finding that it rolled off the tongue in a strange way, "will we need to know Spanish for, say, your tests?"  
  
"No, that'd be language discrimination."  
  
"And, oh, will we be continuing from where Snape--Professor Snape, I mean-- left off?"  
  
"Good question," Dani smiled, beginning to stroll around the classroom. "Short answer: no." Several kids cheered silently, but Hermione frowned. She was actually interested by the subject matter. "You will be learning some more useful things in Pociones," he said, saying the last part almost spitefully.  
  
"Don't you mean Potions?" Dean asked, looking warily around. Everyone nodded in agreement, and Dean sighed with relief.  
  
"For the remainder of the term, you will be calling this Pociones, agreed?" Dani announced, not really looking for them to agree; it was a declarative statement. "I hope to teach you how to treat a werewolf, when it's legal to use Polyjuice, how to trick your enemies into divulging their secrets, and, of course, Spanish." The class laughed a bit at the last part, but they were all intrigued. Snape would have never taught them anything like that! These were REAL potions--er, pociones--not just the kiddie ones in textbooks.  
  
"Por favor abrís sus libros para página setenta y uno," Dani instructed, and then sighed at the blank stares. He wrote what he said on the board, along with, "Haga las secciones marcadas en rojo." "Your assignment is to look up what that means and carry it out. In the meantime," Dani said, putting down the chalk, "let me take attendance." Everyone was still silent, only with curiosity now, as he plopped into the swivel chair (Harry wondered where that had come from!) and summoned the attendance sheet.  
  
"Azcott, Jenilee?"  
  
"Yes?" replied the confused, mousy Slytherin girl towards the back of the room.  
  
"Just say 'here'--better yet..." Dani rubbed his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully. "Better yet, say 'aquí'."  
  
"Aquí...?" the girl shrugged, getting snickers from the rest of the class.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
"Now that was strange," Harry laughed as he and Hermione exited the Potions- -or Pociones--room. "That guy was... er, is it loco?"  
  
"Well, I think it's a great idea," Hermione pouted, obviously displeased that Harry didn't agree. "It's a wonderful cultural experience that will broaden our backgrounds."  
  
"Geeze, Hermione, you sound like someone's mom," Hermione complained goodnaturedly. She made a murderous face. "Hey, I didn't say that you looked like someone's mom, you just sound like..." Harry stopped, realizing he had just complimented her, and they both blushed. The remainder of their walk was in silence, and they parted into their gender's room upon reaching the common room. "Adiós," Harry teased before she diappeared into the girls' dorm.  
  
The 7th year guys' room was a train wreck as usual. Harry didn't even notice the wrappers and laundry littering the ground, it was commonplace. He did notice, however, Ron Weasly. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The redhead jerked up with a start upon hearing someone enter, and he snorted when he realized that it was Harry. "Oh, it's you," he said, as if the words tasted bitter on his tongue.  
  
"Yeah, it's me, you're just the most goddamn perceptive bloke in England, aren't you?" Harry shot back, a malicious tone in hand. Ron looked almost surpised; with all that he had dealt to Harry, this was the first time Harry had retorted back an insult. "Just get off my back!"  
  
Ron regained his attitude instantaneously, smirking, "What's wrong with England's big hero? Split ends?"  
  
"Sod off," Harry seethed through gritted teeth. "I don't need this right now."  
  
"I'd love to stay and chat," Ron drawled srcastically, getting up and moving past Harry towards the door, "but Señor Psycho gave homework, and not everything comes easily to the rest of us."  
  
"Is that what you think?" Harry said, his voice low. "You think everything comes easily to me?" Ron stopped in the doorway, but didn't turn around. "If you truly believe that, then I wonder if you ever even listened to anything I ever said. I wasn't just complaining, Ron. Come to think of it, were we ever really friends?" Harry felt an unfamiliar venom surging through his vains. Before the shocked Ron could reply, he stormed past and into the common room. He grasped the doorknob, when he heard Ron.  
  
"Wait!"  
  
Harry turned, expectantly.  
  
"We were friends," Ron said simply, eying Harry gingerly. "We're not now, and will never be again, but don't you dare say we never were."  
  
"Whatever," Harry said, trying to ignore the passion in Ron's voice. It was getting much harder to deal with every passing word, and it was getting harder to pretend that everything was okay. He needed to get out, talk to someone... breathe. Anyone, anywhere. Harry swallowed hard, and left the common room in search of clarity.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Overwhelmed, honestly! Thankkkkkks!  
  
  
  
Miss Spinn—Several times a day? Uh-oh, this one took a while… Well, I'm a bit slow in the poetry area because… I'M OVER HIM! Well, sorta… anyway, I try not to think about things sometimes so I haven't been writing poems. Sorry, but thanks! And I do believe u got around to reading Road trip, I think I remember you reviewing. Thanks!!!  
  
Lilz—THANKS! You get more, just for that review. Well, you would've gotten it anyway, but…. Y'know…  
  
Emili Potter—Er, thanks. You mean I didn't depict him as too bad? Or he isn't supposed to be. Well, he's mean.  
  
Black Eyeliner—Hey thanks! Another faithful "checker"  
  
Hazeleyez—Thanks lots! If you ever get bored, try reading a few of those I promise they're great! Although if a certain someone would update a certain story by the name of Shades of Lavender it would be a lot more enjoyable!  
  
Gab Angel—Hey, thanks so cool! Flow… wooooo…. Hyper, sorry.  
  
Bookworm4ever—Glad u enjoy! Yes, Ron's a meany!  
  
Matriaya—For the record… thanks! Well, who know what Harry will do. Wait, I do… hehe… Don't hate the author, hate the game!  
  
Cutie Blossom—Well, believe it. You can see though that he's not completely evil. He still is very, very Ron-ish and still has feelings.  
  
Katie janeway—I don't think they can kick him out, but he is shunned, if that helps. Thanks!  
  
Lady Foxfire—Um, thanks! Heartwrenching? In a way.  
  
FictionHobbit—Nah, he's secretly a sweetie… should I have said that? :p  
  
Spazzy—Yes, you are. In a really nice way… Thanks, and I'm glad you "will be back" for this chapter.  
  
Violet Blues—Yes'm! Glad u love it, thanku!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Thanks for the support! It's appreciated!  
  
  
  
And I'm out… 


	5. I'm more than a bird

A/N: Hey! This is actually longer than some of the other chapters so yay me! Well, I just had a lot to write. It's over two Word pages longer than most others so celebrate me! Or just read it, either one. It took forever for chapter four, but with this chapter I hurried because I'm getting into this story again.  
  
This should explain just about everything, but there's still more to why Ron went all psycho and evil. For those of you who resent him being so cruel, isn't it obvious that the real Ron is still inside there, desperately waiting for a reason to be nice again? Something like that…  
  
Review, please. Now. I mean it. Thanks!!! :o)  
  
Disclaimer: Dani's mine, Pociones class is sorta mine, and the plot and half-poem are so definitely mine that it hurts! Other than that, it's JK Rowling's, but that will change in time… muchachacha… muchachacha…!  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
An hour later found Harry venturing into the Hogwarts library at the end of the 4th corridor. He had taken a walk on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest for a little while, stopped by the Pociones room and then hung by Hagrid's vacated hut, and felt slightly better about himself.  
  
It was true--even with the new year, a new teacher, and reassurance, Harry was plagued by guilt. ^What if Hermione hadn't come that night in the Astronomy Tower? Was I really about to jump?^ Contemplating suicide left Harry with shivers so, once more, he shrugged it off to the back of his mind. But it would resurface later; it always did, anyhow.  
  
He was relieved and disappointed at the same time when his eyes saw Hermione nestled in a chair at one of the oak tables in the library. It looked like she was writing, but Harry knew Hermione would never write in a library book. Curiosity tugged him over, and he slid in a chair across from Hermione.  
  
"Harry!" she exclaimed, surprised, and snapped the book shut so quickly that it made a loud thud that attracted momentary attention from the rest of the students.  
  
A quick glance at the book caused Harry to smile in his usually lopsided manner. "Eres escribiendo en tu diario," he grinned, pleased when her eyes were confused. "Finale idioma!" he declared, flicking his wand. "That's better. I used a language spell so it translated whatever I said into Spanish. Dani helped me with it while I was out."  
  
"Amazing!" Hermione agreed a bit too passionately; Harry couldn't tell if she was truly impressed or if she just wanted to change the subject away from her notebook.  
  
Harry wouldn't let her divert him, though. "I see you're enjoying the journal I bought you. Can I see what you're writing?"  
  
Hermione's cheeked tinged pink. "It's just a poem." She hugged the notebook safely to her chest.  
  
"I'm sure it's great," Harry pleaded, putting his puppy dog eyes on. "Pleeeeeeeease? Pleeeeease, Mione?"  
  
"Oh, fine," she grumbled, but Harry had the feeling that she had wanted him to read it. She slid the lavender notebook across the table and Harry snatched it up briskly before she could change her mind.  
  
"It's not finished yet," Hermione warned, nervousness rising in her already high voice. Harry didn't pay attention and commenced reading it.  
  
  
  
You are the candle  
  
And I, the flame  
  
As I burn for you  
  
Burn with you  
  
In our fiery game  
  
The slightest breeze threatens us  
  
You the candle, I the flame  
  
And it's more than you can handle  
  
Handle in our fiery game  
  
  
  
Harry set the notebook down after seeing that there was no more to be read and stared across the table with a poker face to Hermione. She looked ready to explode. "Well???" she asked, taking the notebook back.  
  
"Um, Herm, I don't know how to break it to you but..." Her face fell, and Harry grinned. "...I love it."  
  
"Harry, you prat!" Hermione scolded, but she was beaming and blushing in contradiction to her statement. "I'm stuck, though. I know there's more to the poem, but..."  
  
"May I ask what the poem is about?" Harry mused, random ideas popping in and out of his head. Hermione omitted a firm shake of the head and frowned as if he had just invaded her privacy.  
  
"Quit flickering, Herm," Harry teased, getting up. "Happy or sad, good times or bad, you know I'm the best friend you've ever had. The mood swings are killing me."  
  
"You can speak to snakes, defeat Voldemort, and now spot rhyme? Gee, I'm impressed!" Hermione stuck her tongue out immaturely; Harry flashed her a dry smile and left her there, alone.  
  
"Flicker..." she said aloud, enlightened, and began scribbling in her diary once more. How could she tell Harry that the poem was about him? He obviously didn't understand, or maybe he did. Maybe he was just trying to make her suffer. It was just like him to do that!  
  
Hermione felt anger and her face flush, and so she calmed herself. She had no proof, and was getting angry with Harry for something that he didn't do. "He's right; I am crazy," she laughed.  
  
"Shh!" hissed the librarian.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
"Harry! ¿Cómo el encanto está trabajando?"  
  
Harry turned a few moments after leaving the library to face Dani, who was jogging up to him. "Sorry, Profesor--I mean, Dani. I took the spell off, and have no clue what you just said."  
  
"Quite alright," Dani nodded. "Listen, Harry--we don't have a guidance counselor at Hogwarts so I'm being a multi-purpose substitute for the time being. I heard about what happened..." Harry sighed, trying to suppress how annoying this was getting. "I know, I know, everyone's saying that. But you seem a bit detached and I was hoping I could be if some help."  
  
"Uh, thanks," Harry mumbled somewhat rudely. "I'll stop by if I need to."  
  
"I mean it, Harry," Dani called as Harry hurried off onto the outside grounds.  
  
"Aaah, fresh air," Harry proclaimed, breathing deeply. Night was settling in and the sky was inundated with stars. Hogwarts always seemed to be picture-perfect at night, like the darkness of the sky and the majesty of the stars could sweep all of the problems away. And for Harry, it did quite a good job of it.  
  
He found himself lying down on the grass, smiling blissfully. The hum of the crickets was a sweet melody and the soft sound of the wind eased his soul. It felt surreal, and yet Harry believed it to be real.  
  
"Harry? Is that you?" Harry propped himself up on his elbows and saw a beautiful silhouette approaching. He felt numb, and if possible, even more serene.  
  
The figure approached and knelt beside him, and Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Mione?" he asked incredulously, and she simply nodded. "Another night, another outdoor rendezvous?" he teased, swatting at his bangs that had once again fallen on his eyes.  
  
"So it seems," Hermione whispered, and her voice sounded hoarse. "I'm not even going to begin to ask why you're here again."  
  
"It's beautiful," Harry explained breathlessly, beckoning to the sky. "Hermione, look at the stars."  
  
She looked up skeptically, but the stars were not what captivated her. Harry's youthful, innocent eyes were bulging with excitement simply at the sighting of every day stars. He met her gaze, and she blushed. Was she staring? Should she stop? Was he staring too? Her thoughts were a mile a minute.  
  
"Harry, I..." Hermione found herself at a loss for words.  
  
"Jesus, Herm. Why is everything getting so confusing?" Harry sighed, crouching on the lawn. His eyes focused out into the distant darkness.  
  
Hermione scowled, hurt. What was that all about? "I didn't mean to confuse you, Harry, but apparently you're confused quite easily."  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but not all of us have writer's block as our biggest problem!" Harry spat dryly, aiming to hurt.  
  
Well, his aim was right on target. "How dare you even go there! You know how personal my writing is! The world doesn't revolve around you, Harry!"  
  
"I never said it did, but since you know everything I guess you just assumed it!" The words flew from Harry's mouth without him even thinking. The regret slowly sank in as he watched Hermione's eyes water with hurt and humiliation. "Herm, listen... Oof!" She lunged forward and pushed him with all of her 115 pounds; he stumbled back and landed hard on the ground. "Hermione!" he called, knowing that it was ineffective, as she ran away like the wind, her head in her hands as her sobbing echoed throughout the night.  
  
Harry pulled himself up and dusted off. "Oh, crap."  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Harry hesitated, and then knocked three times on the sturdy door. "Come in, Severus," called the voice from inside. Harry timidly swung the door open and peered inside.  
  
"Uh, sorry, sir. Are you waiting for--?"  
  
"Come in, come in," Dani ushered, setting a few papers down and swiveling the chair to face Harry. Harry slowly stepped inside and sat in his usual seat although the classroom was empty. "I was expecting Professor Snape. It's awfully late, what brings you to my room?"  
  
"Sorry, I could come back tomorrow," Harry said quickly, but Dani shook his head and prompted him on. "You just said... uh, if I needed to talk..."  
  
"Right, that's what I thought," Dani nodded, sitting on a desk two rows directly in front of Harry. "I was hoping you'd take me up on that. I've heard various things, why don't you start from the beginning."  
  
Harry cleared his throat, hoping he could do this. It had been a long time since he had said anything about it. "Um, well... I returned from my 6th year to the Dursleys, my mother's sister's family. And, er, when I got there, um, y'see, well..." Harry felt uneasy. "Uh... well, when I got there, they were dead. All of them. Just like how the Riddles died--do you know about that?" Dani gave an acknowledging nod; he was always nodding, rather than speaking.  
  
"I hated the Dursleys, but I never wanted them to die exactly," Harry divulged. "It was Voldemort's work; he had left behind a healf-dead servant that had tried to stop him. The servant, Peter Pettigrew, had been in my debt because I once saved his life, and Peter was trying to return the favor. Um, Peter told me that Voldemort was going to the hurt my friends, and mentioned the names Weasly and Granger.  
  
"So I got on my broom without thinking and flew right there, in plain sight, to Hermione's home in Canterbury. When I got there, she was unloading from school and everything was fine." Harry choked on his words and fought back tears. "And I immediately flew to Ron's home. It only took about ten minutes, but... but..." Harry's efforts failed and his eyes watered. He swiped at them, humiliated. He was seventeen, and had vowed not to cry! Why did he have to go and cry?  
  
"But... I was too late. Voldemort had killed Ron, my friend's, parents, and fled. If I had only gone to Ron's house first... I could have saved his parents. I got there as Voldemort was leaving. He used the crucatius curse on me, and… I fled… I apparated out as the Avada Kedavra beam was radiated." Harry took a guilty gulp and kept his eyes glued to the floor. "…and Ron never recovered." Harry took a shaky breath and snuck a furtive glance at Dani. His eyes were closed and his lips were pursed tightly together.  
  
"Harry," Dani said slowly after about two minutes of silence. "Harry, you're seventeen. It's not your job to save the world, and somewhere along the line you were convinced that it was. You have to realize that it's not your fault. You tried, and that's what counts. This isn't your fault. It's not."  
  
"Yes it is!" Harry erupted, standing up. Tears were streaming down his cheeks but he didn't notice nor car. "It IS my fault. Why does everyone keep saying it's not?"  
  
"Because it's not!" Dani yelled back, standing as well. "Everybody says it because it isn't, but until you realize it for yourself this guilt won't go away. Do you really want to live like this?"  
  
"Dani," Harry said calmly, trying to keep his composure. "This is just too much. My former best friend hates me, my crush--er, other friend--will probably never speak to me again after I just blew up at her for no reason, Hagrid was fired simply because he refused to be the Weaslys' secret keeper a year ago--he didn't deem himself responsible enough--and the Dark Lord's back. It's hard to think that it's not my fault."  
  
"Harry, I--"  
  
"Am I interrupting something?" Dani and Harry turned around; Snape stood in the frame of the door, face forming a sneer.  
  
"Not now, Severus," Dani frowned, irritated.  
  
"No, it's alright. I'm going anyway," Harry said, getting himself together and heading towards the door. "Thank you for--"  
  
"Harry," Dani protested.  
  
"It's quite fine, I'm done," Harry insisted, and brushed past Snape and into the hallway. The door closed behind Snape, and Harry sank to the floor and began once again crying freely.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
A/N: Yayyyyyy! Thanks for your oh-so-kind reviews! There were only 8 but I am still very grateful!Love u all!  
  
  
  
Melly08—hey I love that word, awesome! I sound 80's don't I? well, I am an 80s child and a product of them so it fits.  
  
Spazzy—You don't gotta know it, if it has anything directly to do w/ the plot I'll explain. Thanks for your review and, er, enthusiasm.  
  
Bookworm4ever—yes, you are very into h/hr I see.  
  
Emili Potter—What test? Send a link! Well, Ron isn't all bad. Read my A/N.  
  
Hazeleyez—I always mention reviewers! I actually used the world revolving thing, what a co-ink-a-dink! Thanku!  
  
Meg—yes, yes they r. that was implied by the first chapter. Thanks 4 reviewing and enjoying!  
  
Black Eyeliner—STUPIDHEAD! UPDATE SHADES OF LAVENDER, YOU'RE KILLING ME! With that said… Hehe, whenever my spanish teacher gets mad she starts ranting in spanish and I can understand some of it but man is she fast! Thanks, BUT UPDATE SHADES OF LAVENDER OR THERE WILL BE A REVERSAL IN THIS COMING AFTER PEOPLE WITH OBJECTS!  
  
NikkiWeasley—Is that how it's spelled? If so, I have terrible typos but o well. No, he aint evil, read my A/N at the top. Thanks so much!  
  
  
  
*sigh*, thanks! I wish I had more but I am updating kinda fast. I will put a new chapter up once I have 50 reviews since I'm going for ten per chapter? Can u people do that? O please!  
  
  
  
Another day, another chapter…  
  
  
  
And I'm out… 


	6. I'm more than a plane

A/N: Hi! Geez, it's been a while. Sorry! Really and truly. I've been busy. Ok, check out my new story Freakshow. Please. I'm heartbroken, I spent a long time making that a very long chapter (uncharacteristic for me) with an original plot and I only got two reviews! (BLESS RAVENCLAW DROPOUT AND WHITE GLITTER! TO THANK U FOR THAT I MENTIONED YOU GUYS IN THE STORY!!! LOL… I STARRED IT SO YOU WOULDN'T MISS IT! THANKS!)  
  
I won a writing contest in my county so it renewed my writing spirit. Maybe I don't suck after all. Aren't I self-confident? Ha. Anyway, here's my disclaimer.  
  
Diclaimer: I may be disturbed, but won't you concede, even heroes have the right to dream… And I, being Super Girl, can dream of becoming an author, right? Right. This stuff—not mine. :o(  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Come on, guys," Harry said despairingly. It was currently one in the morning and Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Nar Litkins were on a sugar high. Harry rolled his bloodshot eyes and turned over grudgingly in bed to block out the sound of their shrieks to no avail. "Honestly, can't you do that tomorrow?"  
  
"Well aren't you the wet blanket," Nar said, stumbling off of Seamus's bed (which he had been bouncing on for the past ten minutes) and falling dizzily to the floor. "What's up your arse, Potter?"  
  
"Nothing," Harry yawned, squeezing his eyes shut even harder until they hurt.  
  
"Aw, widdle 'Arry 'as girlie problems, doesn't 'e?" Dean cooed mockingly.  
  
"Shove it, Dean," Harry mumbled.  
  
"Geeze, fine," Dean replied, falling exasperated onto the floor beside Nar. He landed a bit too rashly, clunked his head, and sat up to rub his visibly growing bruise. "Touchy, touchy," he scowled.  
  
"You've become so boring," Seamus said as an aftethought to Dean's complaint.  
  
Harry bolted upright and glared at Seamus, Dean, and Nar through his red, drooping eyes. "Dean, you fancy that 5th year Hufflepuff, Willow, who in your diary is code-named White Glitter*, and have a secret passion for Potions class. Seamus, your accent is fake, considering you're nationality is Irish but you really grew up in Nottingham. Nar, your full name is Narcissus Lawrence Litkins, but it makes you sound like a girl so you haven't told anyone, and your sister, Leila, is a Ravenclaw dropout**. And you all are as immature as that sprout we planted in Herbology yesterday."  
  
If Harry had hoped for silent, stunned faces, then he must have been pleased. Momentarily anyway. Seamus turned to Dean, and in an accent that was clearly not Irish: "You like Potions???"  
  
"Oh dear God," Harry groaned, flopping back down. Was there any fazing these boys? No wonder he loved spending so much time with Hermione, she, as a girl, was high above this unsophisticated behavior.  
  
A slow creaking was coming from the door and it slightly roused Harry's curiosity. Dean, Seamus, and Nar were still fooling around like eight-year-olds on the floor, but otherwise every other boy in the dorms was in bed and asleep. That is, with the exception of…  
  
"Ron?" Harry squinted, his lack of glasses making it hard to make out the figure that had sneakily crept into the dorm. All he could see was flaming red hair, and that was solid enough evidence for Harry to assume the identity. He did, for reassurance, feel around the dresser until his hands closed on his spectacles and Harry roughly shoved them onto his face. Sure enough, there was Ron, scowl and all.  
  
"Uh huh," Ron replied briskly, brushing past Harry rudely.  
  
"Where were you?"  
  
"None of your business," Ron said.  
  
"Who's touchy now, Dean?" Nar teased, and was pushed from the bed that he and Dean had climbed up on to the floor once more. "Well, well. What WERE you doing, Ron?"  
  
"If you must know," Ron said smugly, "I was meeting a girl."  
  
This caught Dean, Seamus, and Nar's attention. "Who? That skinny Ravenclaw? Melissa, right?" Dean asked eagerly. He was clearly the leader of the three currently hyper boys.  
  
"No!" Ron scowled. "Like I would ever have anything to do with Melissa Corridge." He turned his nose up ever so snottily.  
  
"That's not what I heard," said Dean, just as pompously. "I heard that you asked Liss out, and SHE turned YOU down."  
  
"All in the past," Ron quickly mumbled under his breath. "Anyway, want to know who?" Ron shot a hard look in Harry's direction. Harry looked away and buried himself into his pillow.  
  
"Obviously!" Dean practically screeched. He was always one for gossip. "You were gone for SO long." Dean's seemingly innocent exclamation was not as innocent as it seemed; the three chuckled boyishly and Ron grinned, ear to ear.  
  
"I know," Ron replied, and suspicions were affirmed. Dean, Seamus, and Nar were apparently in awe of Ron, with their respectfing jaws down to their knees.  
  
"Oh, come on, who?" Seamus uncharacteristically asked.  
  
"You'd never guess," Ron insisted, enjoying every minute of it.  
  
"Then tell us!" Dean demanded. His curiosity had turned irate.  
  
"Hermione Granger," Ron said, voice dead serious. No one spoke for a monent. Dean, Seamus, and Nar all had blank expressions lining their incredulous faces. Harry had peeked out from under the pillow and was looking at Ron curiously, face set.  
  
Finally, Nar whispered, "Seriously?"  
  
"Oh yeah," Ron grinned.  
  
"I'LL KILL YOU!" was Harry's battle cry as he propelled himself off of the bedsprings and lunged onto the unexpecting Ron. He landed on top of the redhead and started pummeling Ron with fists. "I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU!"  
  
In the subsequent minutes following the attack, it seemed that all five boys had been wiped of their memory of being wizards and began handling the situation as Muggles would. The first thing that happened was that Ron got over the initial shock of being attacked by Harry, who had appeared to fly at him after levering himself off of the bed. Ron would probably have been too stunned and confused to have done anything at all, at least for several minutes. Instead, Ron's dust allergy (as he was on his back on the floor) kicked in and there was minimal warning before Ron's head rocked forward and he sneezed in Harry's face.  
  
Harry was blind with rage, but the snot splattering onto his face was a good calming point. He froze for a moment, giving Seamus and Nar ample time to pin his arms against his back and drag him away from Ron.  
  
Dean took advantage of the moment by propping Ron up before the youngest male Weasley could retaliate and examed Ron's bloody nose, swelling lip, and bruising skin. Ron pushed Dean away and barely touched his nose with his right index finger when he immediately yelped in pain.  
  
"I think it's broken," Ron whined shrilly, letting his guard down. He quickly regained it and turned his burning eyes towards Harry and spat, "Happy, Potter? You broke my fucking nose! Potter broke my fucking nose!"  
  
Meanwhile, since the moment that Harry had landed on Ron with his cry of, "I'll kill you," every single boy in the dormitory had slowly stumbled out of their beds rubbing their bewildered, curious eyes.  
  
"What's going on here?" Guy Wimsdon asked, furrowing his thick unibrow. His blue eyes opened wide as he saw Ron's displaced nose and the blood, along with Harry's infuriated expression as Dean and Nar pinned him back.  
  
"None of your business," Ron snarled, although slightly embarrassed. "Go back to bed! All of you!" However, not a single boy heeded his proclamations and only moved closer to encircle the area where the five boys crouched on the carpet.  
  
"What's going on?" a short, awkwardly skinny Gryffindor that Harry could have sworn he'd never laid eyes on before asked. How self absorbed I've become, Harry inwardly groaned.  
  
"All that I've gathered is that Harry 'fucking broke' Ron's nose," Guy replied, greatly resembling a sportcaster giving the play-by-play. Neville audibly gasped at the profanity, and Nar snickered.  
  
"Take Ron to the infirmary," Dean commanded of Seamus and Nar; the two dropped Harry's arms and he slumped to the ground.  
  
Harry quickly scrambled to his feet and icily glared at Ron as Ron was dragged away. "I'm not going to forget what you said, Ron! That wasn't funny! You'll pay for this!"  
  
"I heard you," Ron smirked quirkily as he disappeared and the door swung shut. "You''ll kill me, you'll kill me. I heard."  
  
Unbridled anger surged like dark blood through Harry's veins and he had to bite his lip in fear that he'd publicly foam at the mouth. "Harry," Dean said calmly, eying Harry as you would a ticking bomb. "We all know Ron was kidding. He hates her, and she's a sweet girl. You know that."  
  
"I know," Harry mumbled grudgingly, "but it wasn't funny."  
  
"It was a joke," Dean replied, the sugar gones from his bloodstream as he pulled the covers back from his bed and climbed between the sheets. "You need to de-stress yourself, okay, Harry? Take it easy."  
  
He'd be a whole lot harsher if I didn't have a near-death experience last year, Harry growled silently. Why did everyone have to be so calm with him, as if they were talking to a child? How could they not expect resentment from him when they treated him like an imbecile?  
  
Adrenaline pumped through Harry and he sprang out of bed, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his boxer shorts. Other than that, he wore a white sleeping thank.  
  
"What're you doing, Harry?" Dean murmured into his pillow.  
  
"I'm going," Harry said coldly, "away." *Up up and away from here…* Harry thought grimly.  
  
"Oh… kay…" Dean was half-asleep, practically snoring right then and there.  
  
Harry cursed as he stepped on a sticky blood spot on the carpet and then resumed his quick pace. Why he was walking so fast, he had no idea. He just needed to move, get going, go… anywhere.  
  
"…didn't see it coming from anywhere… crazy, I tell you, he's… yeah, but he started…"  
  
Harry groaned as he realized that he had caught up with Ron, Seamus, and Nar as he heard Ron's annoying voice. It was 1:30 in the morning, and Harry felt all too sick of it.  
  
"Maybe you desrved it," Harry cut in, voice like a sleek steel knife. The three whipped around, surprised to be snuck up on, but no one more so than Ron.  
  
"Don't you think you've caused enough damage for one night?" Ron shot.  
  
Harry didn't reply; he stubbornly looked away and quickened his pace until he was past them by at least fifteen yards and rounded the corner. But, he stopped. He needed to say something. Dani's words were flowing in Harry's head, crossing and mixing themselves.  
  
"Ron!" Harry called, stopping and stalking even more quickly towards the three which he had surpassed in speed.  
  
"What?" Ron snapped.  
  
"What's the matter with you?"  
  
"Huh?" Ron blinked repeatedly.  
  
"What is wrong with you! Why does it have to be my fault?" Harry struggled to keep his voice together and collected. Why did Ron have to remain so blank? "Why? Why punish Hermione? Why act like such an arse to me? Why be friends with Malfoy? Why?" Answer me!"  
  
Ron just stared, and the silence made Harry even more angry. "You don't have a good answer, do you Ron? No! You don't. Why? Because there is none! You just needed to blame someone and there I was Ron! There I was! Because I was there for you! Please forgive me for always being there for you." He spat the last part sardonically, feeling venom secreting from his blackened heart.  
  
Harry saw the speechless look on Ron's face and stormed off, feeling alleviated. He still blamed himself for what happened, yes… But why must Ron? If it was true, that it wasn't his fault, then why did Ron seem to insist without saying it that it was? Was Harry simply the scapegoat?  
  
Harry flinched as he closed his eyes and remembered.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry hastily tossed his usually prized Firebolt IV aside as he pumped his legs, running as fast as those scrawny limbs could carry them. *Must save Ron, must save Ron.* His breath was short as he pounded on the door of the Burrow; it, however, creaked open on its own.  
  
Harry gulped, taking this as a bad sign, but didn't waste time as he burst into the entrance, which in the Burrow's case was the kitchen. His breath caught in his throat and suddenly Harry couldn't breathe; he felt an unmatched, unselfish fear seize him and he couldn't move. *Snap out of it* he ordered himself, but he couldn't blink. It was too surreal.  
  
The moment was frozen in time. In that split second, Voldemort, the Dark Lord, was hovering over two lifeless bodies as he retreated his wand into his robes. Ginny was kicking and screaming as a heavy, burly man crushed her limbs against him to prevent her efforts of breaking free. Ron was lying unusually still on the floor, taut from the Body Bind, but his brown eyes were beyond terrified and small tears were erupting from the wells of the corners of his eyes. Percy, Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George were not home, off at college. But the two dead, cold bodies on the floor were unmistakingly Mr. And Mrs. Weasley. Unfortunately, they were not the last corpses Harry would see in the future.  
  
The moment died, and Voldemort swirled around quickly. Harry would never forget how the cape flew up and then settled back onto Voldemort's back dramatically as he turned. Their eyes locked, and Harry screamed. His scar was throbbing like a salted wound, only a hundred times worse. The pain made him feel like ripping his scar off, right then and there.  
  
"Hello, Mr. Potter," Voldemort drawled in his hideous, bittersweet tone. "What took you so long? I grew tired of waiting, and so I busied myself in the meantime." Voldemort made a sickening gesture to where Mr. And Mrs. Weasley lay and pulled his wand from his robe. Harry felt around for his. "Let bygones be bygones. Crucio!"  
  
Harry didn't have time to clutch his own wand; he fell to the floor, writhing in pain that made his scar seem like a papercut. Colors, brilliant hues of white and red, were flashing through his head like an endless flipbook. The seering pain was growing numb, and Harry wondered if he was dying.  
  
*Must apparate…* Harry moaned inside his head, which felt as if it were breaking in too.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
Harry felt an unearthly scream rupture his vocal chords and fly from his grieving mouth. A flash of unsurmountable pain washed through his body, hitting every cell, vein, and artery in his body. But amazingly, it was true. His life began flashing through his head.  
  
  
  
  
  
"It's a boy, Mrs. Potter."  
  
  
  
  
  
"James! Harry's first step! Come quick!"  
  
  
  
  
  
"…but we can't bring Harry into hiding. It's not fair for him to grow up in such an evironment. Lily, tell the Minister that. We just can't."  
  
  
  
  
  
"NOOOO! Not Harry! Take me instead!"  
  
  
  
  
  
"It's alright 'ere, 'Arry. Them Dursleys will take good care of ya 'ere."  
  
  
  
  
  
"Promise me, Petunia. We'll never tell anyone, not even the boy, that he's one of those foul creatures. Promise me. Understand?"  
  
  
  
  
  
"You're a wizard, 'Arry."  
  
  
  
  
  
"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Wizardry!"  
  
  
  
  
  
"Alright, if not Slytherin… I guess it'd better be GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
  
  
  
  
"WE WON THE HOUSE CUP! WE WON THE HOUSE CUP!"  
  
  
  
  
  
"Harry, I'm your godfather."  
  
  
  
  
  
"Aw, come on, Harry. I know you like Hermione like that. You're always talking about her, I don't care if you insist that she's just a friend. When it's us three together, you can't tear your eyes away from her."  
  
  
  
  
  
"Let bygones be bygones. Crucio!"  
  
  
  
  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry suddenly realized that the pain was subsiding, and was reluctant to open his eyes. Had he died? Would he open his eyes and see Heaven? Or worse… Harry's lids fluttered open and he gasped.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The memory ended. Harry was still in the corridor, having just stomped off from Ron. He had forced himself not to remember… not to remember that horrible day and those unspeakable words of the past that flew back to him as he died.  
  
But he hadn't died. When he had hesitatingly opened his eyes, Harry had surprisingly found himself in the Dursley's driveway. At first he figured it to be Hell, but when Dudley came romping out of the house wearing his skivvies and had spotted Harry, the shrill shriek Dudley omitted assured Harry that he was still very much alive, although he ached all over.  
  
Later he would find out that he had only felt the Avada Kedavra curse, but had not died, for he had apparated before it took its full effect. Harry quickly apparated (illegally of course, but Harry knew how and these were emergencies) to the Helga Hufflepuff Memorial Hospital and was entered into intensive care as he blacked out in the waiting room.  
  
Harry tried to push his thoughts to the back of his mind, but this time he couldn't. They always resurfaced, so why not deal with them now? Harry couldn't stop visualizing Ron's eyes as he lay still on the floor—full of dread, horror, hate, frustration, and hurt. These feelings had been directing towards the Dark Lord… but now, Ron seemed to just send them to Harry. And, wheenver the chance arose, Hermione.  
  
Hermione, Harry groaned. He had forgotten for a moment that he had completely insulted and crushed her heart just hours earlier, and a fresh wave of guilty knocked him in the stomach. He stopped suddenly, realizing that he had wandered off and was uncertain of his location, as it was pitch black, and he had not brough his wand to perform the Lumos spell. He'd apparate back to his dorm, but since it was not a dire emergency he could be expelled and, besides, apparition was not capable on Hogwarts grounds. Instead, he kept walking, hoping soon he'd be able to make out and recognize his surroundings.  
  
Fifty idle minutes past, and Harry's eyes had adjusted to their fullest in the darkest and still could not see all the doors and corners. It was two a.m., and Harry felt as if he hadn't slept in days, which was more or less true. He couldn't keep his eyes open, and was so damn frustrated that he felt like crying. He felt something against the wall, but he pushed past it and fell onto thick carpet. Harry willingly let himself relax as he collapsed and drifted off into a deep, much-needed sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
*Thanks so much to White Glitter/Black Eyeliner! You're the best!  
  
**Thanks Ravenclaw dropout! Your name worked well in the story, lol.  
  
  
  
Well, this isn't quite as long as the other chapters. It is, but it isnt, seeing that the memory lines took up a lot of space. Enjoy. Sorry this took so long. I'll prob be updating my poetry next and then Road trip, which I'm having a mental freeze over. Thanks for your overwhelming response—22 reviews, I believe! Find your name in the clump below.  
  
  
  
  
  
Shout out to:  
  
  
  
Spazzy, EMILI POTTER, bookworm, HARRYNZ, draco's princess, SSJGUYVER, meg, ACHILLES, nikkiwealey, ( ), melly08, HAZELEYEZ, sailor sol, FLENEBEAN, me (curse u katie! Curse you!!!), WHITE GLITTER (aka black eyeliner. Update shades right now!!!), shining star, ORI, miss spinn (the spanish isnt necessary. If it is important or relative to story I will translate), RAVENCLAW DROPOUT  
  
I'd comment on everyone but right now I'm busy. I'll prob write responses to all reviews l8r, or maybe tomorrow (Friday) night. See ya then.  
  
  
  
  
  
And I'm out… 


	7. I'm more than some pretty face beside a ...

A/N: OK, this is slightly shorter than the last chapter but it's been SO LONG. SORRY!!! I'm so sorry, really. Well, this is extremely fluffy, and yet angsty. You'll like it. It's not over. Trust me, it's not.  
  
It's not over.  
  
There is more, like how it leads up to the last chapter. This is sort of like the calm before the storm. Thanks to Black Eyeliner of White Glitter or Charybdis or whatever she's calling herself now! You keep me on my toes!  
  
Disclaimer: Again, my poems are from me! Read my poetry collection, Bittersweet, and let me know if you think any of them are especially fitting to go into this story. I really enjoy input. Thanks lots! And if you have any poems that you think would work, put them in your review. Oh, other than that the characters are NOT mine. I repeat, the char—wait, no, I'm lazy. You got it the first time.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Harry!" Hermione called, her melodious voice exaggerated over the thick puffs of clouds. "Harry……..!"  
  
Harry knew he was in a dream. It was a strange feeling. He tried to call out, but was unable. *I've gone mute* thought Harry frantically, although the one that knew he was dreaming knew better. It was as if Harry was watching his dream like a movie.  
  
"Harry!" she cried once more, but it felt edgier, with an undertone of angst. Suddenly the clouds became gray and it started to rain.  
  
*Why is it raining blood?* thought the Harry that was watching himself, whereas the figment of him seemed to think nothing odd about this. In fact, that Harry was perched on a cloud, searching for the voice and entirely ignoring the drops of blood that were pelting his skin and trailing down his perfectly white clothes.  
  
"POTTER!"  
  
This time, the dream-Harry and the real Harry both jumped with a start. Harry opened his eyes, and as his vision came into focus he found himself staring into a set of crinkled gray eyes. "Malfoy," Harry grumbled, shrugging himself up. "What are you doing in my room?"  
  
Draco snorted. "Your room? Look around, Potter. You're in Slytherin domain."  
  
And he was right. Harry shifted to look beyond Draco; all of the décor was emerald, and all of the inhabitants of the common room wore green robes and homely smirks. "Did you kidnap me?" Harry asked, half-seriously.  
  
Draco seemed to get a kick out of this. "Oh, sure. Trust me, Potter, if I kidnapped you then I wouldn't drop you off in the common room. Wake up. I'm sure your Mudblood girlfriend is looking for you."  
  
"She's not my girlfriend!" Harry protested, giving Draco a furious, unwavering stare.  
  
Still, Draco laughed. "You were quicker to say that she's not your girlfriend than to insist that she's not a Mudblood. Good one, Potter."  
  
A small, sinister looking boy with a shrunken face and a weasel-like resemblance crept over like a skittering rat and whispered into Draco's right ear. Harry watched as Draco's amusement turned to a set frown.  
  
"Potter," Draco said, clasping his hands together. "Potter, Fink here says that he heard that you broke my buddy Ron's nose last night." Rupert Fink nodded eagerly beside Draco, pleased that he had served even a menial purpose. "Well, Potter? Is Fink correct in saying so?"  
  
Harry groaned, the events of the previous night returning to him. *Ah, now I remember why I'm here and not in the Gryffindor house. It was too dark.* He knew that he shouldn't have hurt Ron; it was brash, and Ron had been joking, but still… *You were just defending Hermione's honor, right? It wasn't like you needed anger management or anything.* Still, Harry wondered if Hermione had been his only motive.  
  
He remembered yelling to Ron, "You don't have a good answer, do you Ron? No! You don't. Why? Because there is none! You just needed to blame someone and there I was Ron! There I was! Because I was there for you! Please forgive me for always being there for you." *Ouch. That was harsh… but I meant it all. I meant every word. Then why does it hurt so much?*  
  
"Potter? Answer me!" Malfoy demanded, lightly kicking Harry in the leg.  
  
"Wait—what?"  
  
"Did you break Ron's nose?"  
  
"Well…" Harry sighed, pressing his lips firmly together. "That depends on your definition of 'break.'"  
  
"Cut the crap, Potter," said Malfoy, obviously losing his patience. "I'm going to take that as a 'yes.' Now leave, before I decide to break something of yours that is a whole lot more valuable than a nose."  
  
"Erm, okay," replied Harry, eying Draco unsurely. He backed out of the portrait hole, tripping as he left and landing on his bottom in the outside corridor. "Very smooth," he muttered to no one in particular.  
  
Harry stumbled down the corridor in search of the Gryffindor house. His legs were weak and his vision blurred, as if he was having a hangover without the vomiting. *I wouldn't rule out the vomiting just yet. Is that… That can't be right. What time is it?*  
  
Harry stared disbelievingly at the Correcto Clock mounted upon the central tower since his 5th year. The time read 1:30 p.m. *Oh no! It's rest break already! I must have missed Transfiguration and… oh no. Potions.* Harry's remaining spirits sank to a new low.  
  
Harry clutched the stairwell as he trudged into the next corridor and sauntered up to Sir Cadogan. "Dear lad!" Cadogan gasped, noticing Harry's weakened state. "What's the—"  
  
"Provocative meniality," Harry mumbled before Sir Cadogan could delve into Harry's personal life. He received a resentful flare from knight as the portrait obediently swung to the side, allowing Harry to pass through.  
  
The Gryffindors were there as if in a play; all in designated spots for the moment. Neville Longbottom was sandwiched on the couch between Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, who were having a heated gossip session right over his head. Dean Thomas was leaning on the top of the couch, right over Lavender, from behind. Seamus Finnigan and Nar Litkins were standing in the corner flipping through Quidditch magazines and Guy Wimsdon and Jennifer Lee Falda were snogging on an ottoman.  
  
Ron was aloof from the others as always, sitting with his arms folded in a sofa chair and apparently brooding. He had a thick book closed on his lap, along with a crinkled piece of paper folded between its pages and a dull pencil sitting on top of its cover. His eyes were lazy, wandering aimlessly over the room, and his nose had a white bandage taped to it, although it didn't look horribly disfigured as it had the previous night.  
  
And there was Hermione. She was sitting on the floor, sort of separated from the rest and yet part of the whole scene. The hem of her cotton periwinkle sundress spilled over onto the floor, the way she was sitting, and her feet disappeared beneath it. She was engrossed in writing in the notebook Harry had given her, with the lavender fabric cover. It was a sentimental moment, just observing her, she having no idea that every detail, every movement of her features was being watched and scrutinized.  
  
Harry walked by, unnoticed by all, as he sauntered to stand beside Hermione. She was still ignorant to his presence, and he leaned over her shoulder. She was writing more of the poem.  
  
  
  
  
  
You are the candle  
  
And I, the flame  
  
As I burn for you  
  
Burn with you  
  
In our fiery game  
  
The slightest breeze threatens us  
  
You the candle, I the flame  
  
And it's more than you can handle  
  
Handle in our fiery game  
  
  
  
I flicker as the wind  
  
It threatens to douse  
  
You, the candle, my support  
  
But where are you now?  
  
You, the candle, my support  
  
I'll stand strong for you somehow…  
  
  
  
  
  
"Finished," Harry breathed, and he did not realize that it was aloud until Hermione sharply turned around, gazing fiercely into his eyes. Neither broke the gaze, and Harry's throat felt dry. What should he say? How could he explain?  
  
"Can I help you?" Hermione asked coldly, closing the notebook protectively in her lap.  
  
Harry bit his lip. "I like your poem," he said weakly.  
  
"Oh. Is that what you came to say?"  
  
"Well, no, I—"  
  
"Really? Because I thought you might want to explain your at-my- throat behavior, or perhaps why you missed class today." She tucked the notebook under her shoulder and began gathering her dress as she briskly stood up.  
  
"I do!" Harry insisted, grabbing her elbow. She turned, looked at her elbow, and then back at him. He blushed and released her. "Can we please talk… alone?"  
  
Hermione frowned, as if considering for a moment. "Fine," she said. "The Astronomy Tower?"  
  
"The Astronomy Tower," he agreed, although he probably didn't have a say in the matter. Her stride was short and quick, as if she was hurrying away from him, and Harry struggled to keep up.  
  
She was practically running up the stone stairs, and Hermione remembered doing it before. Only then, she had been in pursuit of Harry. *This had better be good* she told herself, wondering if she was relieved that Harry had an explanation ready or not.  
  
She stopped at the top of the tower, breathing heavily against one of the thick walls of the citadel-like structure. Harry was a few seconds behind her, and his eyes were wildly looking around, first at her, then the window, then the floor, and then her again. "Hermione… listen…" he managed to say between gasps for breath. She held up her hand to halt him, and they each took thirty seconds or so of breathing time.  
  
"First… I want to apologize," Harry said shyly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. You're my…" Harry wanted to trail off, or to be interrupted, but Hermione's look only pressed him on. "Well, you're my best friend. And…"  
  
"And, Harry?" she prompted. The silence was as thick as Vincent Crabbe's neck.  
  
"And…" Harry felt his air pumps slow and die. *Tell her. Now's the time. You can do this.*  
  
"And, you mean a lot to me. I kind of like you… like… like, that," he confessed, wondering if he got his point across.  
  
"You like me… like that?" Hermione asked dryly, raising her eyebrows.  
  
"You know what I mean," Harry snapped, and then realized that he was being irritable again. "I like you as more than a friend, okay?"  
  
"I don't know, you say it like you're embarrassed," Hermione mumbled, looking at the wall, but she turned to Harry and smiled. "I kind of like you like that too." Harry looked up sharply as she put her hand over where his lay, on the windowsill. "Smile, Harry. You never smile anymore."  
  
She reached to embrace him, and they stood hugging, rocking slightly back and forth for a minute. "Harry? You're crying. Why are you crying?" Hermione pulled away, surprised. Harry's eyes were watering.  
  
"We need to talk," Harry said, wiping at his eyes, first the right and then the left. "Here, sit down." He motioned towards a random point by the wall and they both sat. The hem of Hermione's dress spilled onto the floor as before. She looked confused, but even more so worried.  
  
"Do you remember how I came to your house, that day that…" Harry trailed off, firmly closing his eyes. Hermione was unable to tell if he was blocking out the memory or reliving it. She squeezed his hand. "I came to your house first. Yours first, Hermione. And not Ron's."  
  
"Thank you," she whispered, although she was sure that that was not what Harry had wanted for her to say.  
  
He waved her off, still staring glumly at the floor. His voice cracked, as if he was holding back more tears. "I guess it was then that I realized how much you meant to me. You and Ron, my best friends, but I went to your house first. Love before friendship. And I didn't even know it.  
  
"I guess… I guess that's why I snap at you sometimes. And that's why Ron resents you. And why I feel so damn guilty all of the time. And… and why I wasn't sure if I could tell you how I feel. Because it only hurt. It hurt Ron and his family. He'll never forgive me, you know."  
  
"Don't say that," Hermione whispered earnestly, tilting his chin so that he'd finally meet her eyes. "Ron is wrong. You are wonderful. You came to the aid of your friends, you tried. You almost died for Ron. And I don't see how love will get in the way anymore."  
  
"I hope not," Harry said softly, blinking softly. "I really do, though."  
  
"You do what?"  
  
"Love you." He timidly met her eyes once more; she was crying too.  
  
"I don't understand why it has to be so complicated, Harry," she murmured, wiping at her eyes. "Maybe it's not meant to be. You don't deserve so much pain. So much guilt."  
  
"That's what everyone keeps telling me. And I think I'm finally starting to believe it."  
  
"I wrote you a poem." Hermione flipped to the third page of her notebook and thrust it into his hands. He smiled at Hermione before leaning down and reading the six lines.  
  
  
  
  
  
It's days like these that I remember  
  
You can be cruel but I understand  
  
With the weight of the world on your shoulders  
  
I try but I can't  
  
I guess it's not as easy as it seems  
  
When everyone's looking at you, Superman.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Thank you," Harry said, touching the print gently with his right index finger. "For understanding. Or trying to, at least."  
  
"I do my best," she teased, taking the notebook back. "Thanks for always being there, Superman."  
  
"Superman," Harry laughed scoffingly. "Yeah. That's me. Superman."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Thanks~sorry for the long time it took to update. I only got 15 reviews, which is okay, but you guys can top that! I know you can… you've done it before!  
  
  
  
Emili Potter—Thanks! I'm glad you liked that one.  
  
Spazzy—Hey, that's how I spell kewl. Lol. Sorry it's been a while.  
  
ADJ—Oh, I'm glad you understand now. Good. I'm glad you like, and thanks!  
  
Shining Star—Thanks, and love the creative spelling. :o)  
  
Ssjguyver—lol, thanks, and I'm glad you found it again. I love all the reviews I can get.  
  
Elisabeth—Hey, that's a good idea. If I decide for Harry to live, I might use that. But he might die… I don't know. Sometimes stories need a sad ending, just look at Damien by Sarah Black. God, that was sad. *sniffsniff* Yeah, Ron'll snap out of it. I kinda have to kill Hermione. Sorry. But I can be persuaded… lol. I don't know.  
  
Melly08—Thanks! Always appreciated.  
  
Miss Spinn—Great, glad you did read the rest. Very nice of you.  
  
Wondergirl—Thank you infinitely! Love writing compliments even more than story compliments!  
  
Ssj Kinara—Yes, in real life guys are dumb, immature, and gross. Well, most are. Some are sweet, they're just locked up in some hidden chamber that I've yet to stumble upon.  
  
Ori—The suspense, yes. I'm cruel like that. Thanks for reading :o)  
  
Charybdis—Thanks for bugging me until I wrote this chapter. Lol. Thanks. Yes, I enjoyed his reaction very much. His "battlecry." And thank you for congratulating me!  
  
Meg—Thanks, it also saves time so I don't have to actually *think* of chapter titles by myself. Kidding!  
  
DaZLindZ—I love that song too! Glad you like how it's used. Did you read the rest of the story, though? You reviewed for only chapter one.  
  
  
  
  
  
Ok, please more than 15 this time? Thanks, and sorry that it took so long. Like this! LIKE IT!  
  
  
  
  
  
And I'm out… 


	8. And it's not easy to be me

A/N: Hi! Chapter eight… woohoo… This is cool. Is it a cliffhanger? I'm not sure. Well, here it is. And if you have any questions, just ask. Oh, I made up an Archery class with teacher Arturo Alexis. That might come back, like this innocent watch. MUCHCHACHA. Sry. That one escaped me.  
  
Disclaimer: Lalala… song… lalala… don't own Harry Potter… lalala… read my poetry!  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
Greetings, dearest! I have a wonderful surprise for you! Of course you remember the Dorsets. Why, you and Little James Dorset used to be inseparable. Well, Elena Mae is bringing James and her husband and their new baby, Stephanie, to spend your one-week vacation with us. I have received special permission to have you spend the holiday with us, rather than stuck at Hogwarts. I'm coming to pick you up tomorrow morning at 5 a.m.—I know it's early, but darling, we have a long trip, with several stops—through a portkey located behind dear Hagrid's shack. Be prompt, and pack well!  
  
Love and kisses, Mom  
  
  
  
"Love and kisses, Mom," Guy mocked, letting his owl Oakley nip at his knuckles. "Be prompt, and pack well."  
  
"How do you turn this thing off?" Hermione snapped, beckoning to Guy and blushing slightly as she shot daggers at him. "Oh, I see the switch!" Guy grimaced as Hermione jabbed him hard in the side. Then, she turned to Harry. "I'm sorry we can't spend vacation together, Harry," she said with a meaningful gaze. Their fingers interlocked under the table.  
  
"I know," quipped Harry, crestfallen. "I'll miss you, every day. For seven days."  
  
"You know all I'll do is think of you."  
  
"Okay, drama fest 2002," Guy said loudly, causing Hermione and Harry to jump apart. "Crimity! Calm down, before I get the fire extinguisher and hose you two down. It's getting bloody hot in here, I swear."  
  
"Guy!" Hermione blushed, trying to scowl but much too embarrassed to do so. "We're just going to miss each other. Honestly. But I've longed to see Mother and Father. And the Dorsets! How long has it been… since I saw Jimmy Dorset."  
  
Harry's eyes open wide suddenly with alarm. "Jimmy Dorset… you mean…? Let me see that!" Harry snatched the parchment that Hermione had just been delivered via owl and scanned it once more. "Mione, wasn't he…?"  
  
"Harry, Harry," Hermione shook her head with a chuckle, "he was just a childhood crush. We were neighbors until we were fourteen. He moved to France."  
  
"Oh, a French guy," Guy teased, enjoying every minute that Harry's face was growing hot. "I bet he'll romance her again with his 'mon cherie's and 'mi amor's. Harry, here, can speak English. Oh yes, and Parselmouth. How romantic is the language of snakes!" Guy proceeded to make puppy dog eyes while producing hissing sounds.  
  
"Guy, SHUT UP!" Harry said, looking about to explode. Hermione still chuckled, as did Guy. "Just shut up, okay?"  
  
"Harry, you have nothing to worry about," Hermione assured, hugging an arm around his waist as they pushed their chairs back and stood up. "Guy is just being a jerk because Jennifer Lee broke up with him this morning. And I love you, not James Dorset."  
  
"Mean that, Herm?"  
  
"No."  
  
Harry's face turned white.  
  
"I'm only kidding!" Hermione laughed. "Ease up, Har. I'd better get packing. I'll see you at dinner, okay?"  
  
"What about Archery?" asked Harry as Guy gave the password to Sir Cadogan: "Venutian Sprouts."  
  
Hermione just stared for a moment, frazzled, and then broke into an easy smile. "Oh, right. Archery. I'm a bit out of it today, don't you think?"  
  
Harry kissed her lightly on the head and ushered her into the girls' dorm. "Get some sleep. I'll tell Professor Alexis that you came down with something, okay?"  
  
"Thanks, Harry," she said, smiling gratefully. He closed the door to the girls' dorm and leaned against it, grinning.  
  
And why shouldn't he grin? For the first time in months, Harry Potter was happy. Truly, genuinely, I'm-no-faking-this-smile happy. He was in love with his girlfriend, Hermione Bridget Granger, was passing all of his classes (yes, Potions included!), had made some great new friends, and not one person had mentioned his summer mishap in over a week. Yes, with the exception of Ron, life was pretty damn grand, if Harry did say so himself. And he did say so. Quite often, in fact.  
  
Harry leaned his head against the sofa. The leather felt cool against the back of his neck, and he let himself sink into it, further and further and—  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Harry groggily opened his eyes. "What, Dean?"  
  
"Come on, it's time for Archery. You coming or not?"  
  
"But Dean," said Harry trying to lift his head up, "we still have fifteen minutes."  
  
"Had," Dean corrected, motioning towards the clock. "You've been sleeping for twenty. Now come on, we're going to be late."  
  
With a groan and a heave here and there Harry managed to hoist himself up and stumble to his feet. "I haven't been this tired in… I can't remember ever being this tired," said Harry. "Are you sure I was asleep?"  
  
"Out like a light," Seamus nodded as he propped up the door for Harry. Harry, being languid, was passed by Dean, Nar, Guy, and even Nev before he stumbled out the door and into the corridor. "Out like a fat kid playing dodgeball."  
  
"A fat kid playing what?" asked Nev, very bewildered.  
  
"I hate Archery," Guy said loudly, ignoring Nev's question. "I hate it so much that I think we should skip it."  
  
"You're just saying that because Jennifer Lee's in your group for Archery. Last week, you loooooooooooved Archery," Dean smirked, then being shoved in the shoulder by Guy.  
  
"Nuh uh."  
  
"Nice comeback, Guy," Nar laughed.  
  
Harry, meanwhile, was on a planet of his own. A planet where he was exhausted and confused. Where was Hermione? Shouldn't they wait for Ron? Since when did he take Archery?  
  
"Guys," he said, stopping suddenly, "you know, it wasn't nice to leave Ron there. I'm going back for him."  
  
There was pause before they all exploded with laughter. "Good one, Harry," said Seamus, clapping Harry on the back. "And while you're at it, go rest by the Whomping Willow."  
  
"That's ridiculous," Harry stated. "The Whomping Willow is very dangerous. I would never go sit by it, let alone against it. Now, is anyone coming with me to get Ron?"  
  
"Harry," Dean said slowly. "Harry, don't you remember? Ron hates all of us. He's practically a Slytherin."  
  
Harry blinked for a minute as the rest of them remained deadly silent. "Oh. Oh, yes, that's right, isn't it? I'm sorry, my mind's out the window today. Where are we going, anyway?"  
  
"Archery, Harry," Nev said cautiously.  
  
"I know, but…"  
  
"But what, Harry?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
The boys were genuinely concerned. "Guys," Nar whispered, as if to prevent Harry from hearing them, "I think we should take Harry to the infirmary. He's a bit dotty."  
  
"I'm fine!" Harry insisted. "Let's go find Hermione, okay? I'm perfectly fine."  
  
"Harry, not twenty minutes ago you told Hermione to sleep through Archery because she was sickly. We're going to the infirmary, now." Dean grabbed Harry's forearm and yanked, but Harry refused to move. "Harry…" Dean said testily.  
  
"I'm fine. Just fine! Gerrof me, Dean!"  
  
"Sorry, Harry," said Nar, stepping in. "Nullify!"  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Harry sat up with a start in the infirmary by popping up in bed and screaming, "No, Nar!"  
  
Madame Pomfrey heard the ruckus and swooped in, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed. "No, child, you've been nullified."  
  
"I've been what?"  
  
"Nullified," Pomfrey said a bit less patiently. "Narcissus Litkins knocked your mind unconscious so that he could bring you here—against your will, I presume."  
  
"I'm fine," said Harry through gritted teeth as he made a second attempt to sit down. Pomfrey easily fended him back down. "I really am."  
  
"You're not," she simply stated, bustling back up and smoothing down her starchy white uniform. "You don't remember waking up before now, do you?"  
  
"No. I didn't."  
  
"You did," she hummed very casually. "About an hour ago, you bolted upright. Headmaster Dumbledore did some questioning. Of course you don't remember; it's the spell."  
  
"What spell?" asked Harry urgently, his mouth going dry.  
  
"Well," said Madame Pomfrey, wetting her lips with her tongue like a schoolgirl eager to gossip, "you didn't hear this from me… oh dear. Well, Dumbledore figured out that a spell was placed on you after lunch today in the common room. It did a sort of Novocain to your mind."  
  
"I don't understand," Harry spat angrily as he finally struggled to sit up in bed successfully. "Don't you think I would realize if someone put a spell on me?"  
  
Madame Pomfrey chose to seemingly ignore his question as she plucked a book off the shelf and returned to sit on the side of his bed. Harry watched as she flipped several pages and thrust the book in front of him. At this exact moment, the door opened—it didn't burst nor creak, it simply was open and that was that.  
  
"Mione," Harry breathed.  
  
She stood, framed in the doorway. Her features seemed tired and pale, but illuminated. She was so beautiful. Her long, tousled hair hung down her light blue blouse and seemed to bring out a slight sparkle in her eyes. She was disturbingly beautiful.  
  
"Harry, I just wanted to say goodbye," she said softly, but very calmly. She was so calm, and yet she seemed to choke back tears.  
  
"It's 5 a.m. already?" Harry checked his Muggle watch contraption that Seamus had given him for his birthday.* It was five past five. "I must've been out for longer than I thought."  
  
"I've got to go now, Harry," she said. And then she walked rigidly over and gave him a small kiss on the forehead.  
  
"Don't cry," Harry whispered, giving Madame Pomfrey a look that let her know that it was time to excuse herself. "Listen, Herm, you'll be back in just one week."  
  
"Just one week," she echoed, and suddenly smiley brightly added thoughtfully, "Love you."  
  
"You too, Herm." He held her hand and let it drop as she walked backwards. Soon she was gone, disappeared out of the infirmary and his life for a week.  
  
Harry turned his attention back to the book. "Novocain: The Spells for the Numbing of the Body," read Harry, moving from the title to the passage. "Novocain spells vary, but all basically do the same thing. A Novocain spell is omitted from a mind to another, and as long as the appropriate wand is used it is not necessary to have the target in the line of vision. It first takes its effect by relaxing the person, making them feel tired and carefree. The person is awake but takes the appearance of a dormant sleeper with his/her eyes closed and his/her muscles relaxed. However, he/she is fully aware to the events going on around them, but does not seem to notice or think anything of them. To paraphrase, the person is oblivious to the fact that he/she should be aware of what is going on. Then, the person will have memory lapses and perhaps fuzzy logic until the spell is lifted. Novocain spells have been used in bank robberies and hijackings."  
  
Madame Pomfrey had returned, staring intently at Harry and waiting for some sort of reaction. "But Dumbledore doesn't know why it was put on you. Nothing nor no one is missing," she announced, as if reading Harry's mind.  
  
"I'm sorry if I act a bit defensive," warned Harry, choosing his words carefully, "but if someone has been messing with my mind, shouldn't I be worried?"  
  
"You're fine," she snapped, rolling her eyes tactlessly. "Professor Dumbledore would have sent you to the Ministry if there was any serious damage. And besides, Professor Dumbledore lifted the spell. You'll be able to leave after you sleep off today."  
  
"Why can't I get up?"  
  
"Look at you!" Pomfrey exclaimed dramatically, throwing the quilt back over him. "You're exhausted! A real nightmare! Now sleep, child, sleep."  
  
"I'm quite alright," Harry insisted, taking the quilt off of his head. It was cozy, though. "Maybe I'll just sleep for a couple hours."  
  
"That's the spirit," she replied cheerfully, and bounded off into her office.  
  
"Weirdo," Harry muttered. He was being paranoid now, because the last time he had become quite cozy into a pillow it had been because he was spellbound. "Whatever," Harry thought. This time, however, he knew that he was genuinely tired and let himself drift off into sleep.  
  
At the same time in the castle, a flask lay shattered, unnoticed on the cold floor.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
*Props to whoever remembers this watch.  
  
  
  
A/N: Yay! Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reviewing. Only fifteen this time, but oh well. I'll take what I can get, right? :o( :o)  
  
  
  
Emili Potter, tickled.pink, Melly08, Jaimie C. JC, ssj Kinara, lonolella, meg, hazeleyez, Miss Spinn, HarryNZ, FleneBean, Noodlejelly, CrimsonPhoenix, ssjguyver, heath and sar. Responses to you all coming later!!!  
  
  
  
And I'm out… 


	9. Wish that I could cry

A/N: My Microsoft Word keeps freezing my computer so I did this under notepad--hope it comes out alright. Also I don't know how long it is in comparison to my other chapters because there aren't pages in Notepad. So bear with me.  
  
I hope you like the chapter. A lot of action and angst and drama is being set up. I don't know fi any of you were expecting or ready for this, but here is the beginning of the end. This isn't the last chapter, nor the second to last and doubtfully the third to last. I imagine there will be about fifteen int ehf finished product, but who knows.  
  
Thanks for reviewing, but until Word comes back I'm not listing reviewers. Very appreciated though! Love you guys!  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
Harry awoke the next morning, feeling well-rested, at 11 o'clock--so said his watch from Seamus. Sunlight was streaming in from the window and the day looked promising. Perhaps he'd invite Hermione and Ron for a stroll in Hogsmeade or a visit to the beach. His heart twinged as the realization hit him immediately: Hermione was away, and Ron was no longer his friend.  
  
"It must have been nice under the Novocain spell," Harry thought wistftully as he slid into a sitting position. "Hermione was well, Ron was my friend, and I was at ease. Too bad that it's back to reality." Harry still puzzled over the Novocain spell; perhaps it had been a spell that that git, Malfoy, had put on him. "Or Ron," he thought darkly, and then shook it off.  
  
"You're alive!" Madame Pomfrey's choice of words made Harry's stomach flip, but she must have noticed this for she added, "It was just a joke, dear. It's good to see that you're awake; it's been eighteen hours."  
  
"I'll be going now," Harry declared as he stumbled out of the bed and began rummaging through a cubby for his clothes. The starchy infirmary clothes weren't much to his liking and he was eager to be rid of them. Pomfrey didn't fight his decision.  
  
"Fine, dear," she agreed, making some random marks on a chart. "Remember, it's vacation. There are no classes today."  
  
"Right," Harry nodded, and retreated to the infirmary bathroom to change. He locked the door and splashed cold water in his face. He felt refreshed, but not just from sleeping or the water. It seemed that the spell's effects had worn off. A few flicks of his wand guarenteed that his teeth were clean and his hair was neat, and so Harry quickly splipped into his clothes--a simple greay t-shirt that the Dursleys had sent "with love" and a pair of khaki shorts that he had bought himself the previous year (and had had to magick longer when he hit a major growth spurt). After lacing up his tennis shoes, he said a brief goodbye to Madame Pomfrey and thanked her for her services.  
  
It wasn't as sunny as it had seemed from the infirmary window. Any hope for the day Harry had held had now vanished and he decided that he had nothing better to do than go in search of his friends.  
  
The first place Harry checked was the library--he doubted that they'd be in there, and rightfully so, but had this curious, lovesick hope that somehow Hermione would be at one of the tables divulged in a book--and then he was off to the Quidditch pitch. What he saw a brawl of scarlet and emerald robes.  
  
Ron had Guy pinned to the ground and was punching him in the face; Dean kept slamming Draco forcefully against the bleachers; Seamus appeared to have Rupet Fink in a headlock; Nar was on the ground being kicked by a burly 6th year, Vinnie Quem; and even weak Neville had joined in--of course, by joing in I mean being elbowed in the stomach by Blaise Zabini.  
  
Dean was the first to notice Harry, and dropped Draco against the bleachers as he waved and shouted, "Hey, Harry! Harry! Over here!" across the field. Unfortunately, Draco took opporutnity of this, grabbed Dean, and took him flying in between the 2nd and 3rd row of the bleachers. Obscenities could be heard.  
  
Harry ran over as fast as he could. What was going on? Why were they fighting? Usually it didn't happen like this...? Harry reached the bleachers after what seemed to be etrnity and pulled Draco off of Dean. Draco went flying back and went to push Harry, but recoiled as if he thought it over and decided it best to not. Instead, the blonde Slytherin wiped at the blood trickling down his chin and glared daggers at Dean. The rest of the fighting seemed to pause as well as they all looked at Harry.  
  
As if on unsaid command, Draco began hurriedly stalking away and the Slytherins followed in an orderly fashion. They kept turning around to sneer at the Gryffindors and then finally disappeared off of the pitch and into Hogwarts.  
  
"What happened?" Harry asked quietly as he sank into the bleachers. Dean wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve--all the boys had removed their heavy Quidditch robes to partake in the fight--and sat beside him; the rest followed suit, gathering around to tell their story.  
  
"We were here first--"  
  
"And they wouldn't leave--"  
  
"Said something about you, Harry--"  
  
"Guy attacked Ron--"  
  
"But he begged me to!"  
  
"Comment about Gryffindors--"  
  
"Called me a girl!"  
  
"OKAY!" Harry said loudly to break the myriads of voices. He turned to Guy. "Guy, thanks for sticking up for me. Can you tell me what happened?"  
  
Guy shook his head solemnly. "They were just trash talking, Harry. It got to me. It was pretty stupid of us, I know." He looked up, and his expression brightened slightly. "It's good to see that you're awake and well, Har. We heard about the spell."  
  
"Funny how Dumbledore doesn't know why the spell was used," Nar frowned. "Rumors spread like wildfire here at Hogwarts," he added to answer Harry's confused expression.  
  
They got up and headed towards the infirmary to heal a few wounds and make idle chatter along the way. "Have you heard from Hermione, Harry?" asked Dean.  
  
"No," Harry said, wondering why he hadn't thought to check. "I'll ask Madame Pomfrey when we get to the infirmary if I received any letters. But, unless Mione sent me any letters during the first eighteen hours of her visit, I doubt any would be here by now."  
  
"My gash," said Nev, completely non sequitur, "is worse than yours, Guy."  
  
Guy seemed to take this challenge quite seriously as he replied, "Yes, but mine's on my face. Face is worse than torso, Nev." The other guys grunted in agreeal and Nev admitted defeat. Harry just shook his head, laughing at his friends.  
  
It was almost good, in a way, that he had been seeing less of Ron--he had become closer with the other boys in his dorm, guys that he had only considered friendly acquaintances before. "They were willing to fight against those who were speaking against me. I should be more appreciative," Harry pondered. But he still missed Ron. It wasn't good. Almost good.  
  
They reached the infirmary and didn't bother knocking, as Dean was in the lead and was never one for formalities. The rest of the boys fell into the white, clean-smelling room and Harry felt sick just to be back.  
  
The six boys were quiet. It sounded like a wimpering was coming from the backroom. Harry assumed the lead, and they crept cautiously to the back to see that Madame Pomfrey was talking to Dumbledore through the fireplace; only, they couldn't hear what Dumbledore was saying ("Private line," Seamus smirked). "And they're sure?" she was saying softly. "Quite alright. No, I'll be fine. I released him just an hour ago. Alright. Alright. Thanks, Headmaster." She hesitated before clunking the receiver down and gasped as she spunto see six seventeen-year-old boys towering over her.  
  
"B-boys," she stammered, holding her hand to her heart. "You scared me half to death. How can I--oh, you look like the Devil ran you over with a mower!" she exclaimed, trying to busy herself. She reached for Seamus's arm (where Fink had bit him), but Seamus pulled away sharply. Harry adavanced on the small, plump woman.  
  
"What is going on?" he said calmly, but sternly.  
  
"Harry," she protested, backing away. "Go back to the common room."  
  
"I was released an hour ago. What has happened?"  
  
"Harry..."  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"It's Hermione, Harry."  
  
Harry felt his heart freeze and stop beating. For a moment, he didn't breathe. Fears pulsated through his veins like electricty through wires and his mind focused on one, solitary thing: Hermione.  
  
"What happened to Hermione?" He asked slowly, annunciating every word. He didn't want to know the answer. He didn't want to ask the question.  
  
"Harry," she said pleadingly. "You don't want to hear this from me!" She shrieked as he grabbed her by the shoulders and stared at her, hard and cold.  
  
"What about Hermione?" His tone was scary. Truly scary.  
  
"Harry, calm down," he faintly heard one of his friends say. He blocked it out.  
  
Madame Pomfrey was crying. "Harry, she never got to her house. She never got to Sheffield. She never even used the portkey behind Hagrid's hut." Madame Pomfrey looked up daringly into the eyes of Harry Potter. "Hermione's mother never sent her that letter, Harry. It was a set-up."  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Harry rubbed his temple; it was beginign to get sore. He had sat there in the small, stuffy questioning room for three hours. The detetcive had started out with a pleasant, assuring smile and had insisted that Harry had call him Mitch. Now, he wouldn't put up with being called anything but Detective Ropes and wore a hard, cold expression of someone in a deadlock.  
  
Detective Ropes held his head in his hands and was shaking his head slowly with a frustrated expression lining his thin lips. "Harry," he said briskly, every muscle in his face tensing, "we're not getting anywhere. Let's go over it again."  
  
"Again?" Harry thunked the back of his head against the stiff wooden chair in exasperation.  
  
"Again," Detective Ropes echoed, sighing and sinking into his leather chair. Oh, how Harry was beginning to envy that leather chair!  
  
"Hermione and I were eating lunch with our friend Guy, because we all had the same lunch period. Hermione got the letter--"  
  
"This letter?" Detective Ropes held up the now-crinkled parchment, which he had done so each and every time Harry had told the story. By this time, he didn't wait for the routine answer. "Go on," he prodded. The detective sounded exhausted--and even worse, bored.  
  
"Hermione got the letter," Harry said again, through gritted teeth, "and Guy was teasing her. She was dupposedly going to visit her ex-boyfriend, a family friend visiting from France. We said that we'd miss each other, and then we got up to go to the common room, since we had a little while before Archery class. She seemed a little forgetful and lightheaded, so I told her to sleep off Archery, and I'd see her at dinner."  
  
"At dinner," Detective Ropes repeated.  
  
"I went to rest on the couch and felt very tired but happy--later I found out that it was from the Novocain spell."  
  
"The Novocain spell."  
  
"Yes, the Novocain spell," Harry replied dryly. This repetition thing was getting on his nerves--why wouldn't this arse just go and find her instead of listening to Harry's unhelpful account for the fifth time. "Dean woke me up, and I had forgotten about some recent events. Nar Litkins nullified me to make me go to the infirmary and Dumbledore questioned me, although I don't remember that. When I woke up, Hermione came to say goodbye. She looked very... spacy, I guess. Staccatto. Detached. She said she would miss me. I fell back asleep, and woke up at eleven this morning. At noon I was alerted than she was missing."  
  
Before Ropes could make any comments, whether it be a restatement of what Harry said or not, the door creaked open. "Harry," said the voice of Dumbledore. Then, it was directed towards the detective. "I need a word with Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said. The detective quickly excused himself and Dumbledore replaced him in the leather chair.  
  
Ah! How nice it was to see a familiar, kindly face across from Harry after all these hours of seeing Ropes's abrasive, unsympathetic one. Harry welcomed the headmaster with a grateful smile, which was all he could muster.  
  
"How are you holding up, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. Harry forced another weak smile, and Dumbledore nodded. "You're very strong, Harry, to not crack in the face of this. Stay strong. It's a redeeming quality.  
  
"I'm here to help you piece this together. A flask with traces of the Imperius curse in potion form, first used by vampires to ensure that they'd have future rulers, was found shattered on Hermione's floor. Forensic and magical testing shows that it was there before lunch yesterday. It is believed that Hermione was under the Imperius curse at lunch when she received the letter.  
  
"All of Hermione's documents were searched. It is written in her assignment log that she would be finishing her Potions packet of homework--I understand that Snape gave you fifty pages--over this vacation because her parents had plans to attend her mother's cousin's funeral in France during this week. Her parents were contacted in France, and hadn't the foggiest idea what the letter was all about. The portkey behind the hut was a decoy. It leads to the Quidditch pitch, not Hermione's home. And there was no special permission attained for her to see her family over vacation."  
  
"She came to visit me," said Harry softly. "In the infirmary, when I was recovering, she came. And she was crying."  
  
"I imagine that any emotion shown towards you--whether it be that she missed or loved you--was a result of her fighting the curse. I must say, however, that even a strong witch like her would have nearly impossible odds of beating this liquidized Imperius curse," said Dumbledore gravely. "I'm very sorry, Harry. We haven't a clue where Hermione could be."  
  
"But she disappeared right before my eyes didn't she? DIDN'T SHE?" Harry jumped up, his eyes mad with rage. "I was under the Novocain spell--I saw it all, but I didn't even notice. Didn't even care! I'm a powerful wizard, why couldn't I overcome it!" Harry tossed Ropes's snow globe across the room. It shattered and the water flowed everywhere.  
  
"Harry!" Dumbledore said sternly. "Strong! You must stay strong. We will all collapse if you can't.  
  
"I WAS RIGHT THERE!" Harry wailed. He began to cry softly as he sank back into the hard, unforgiving chair. "I was... right... there..." A tear streamed down his cheek leaving a perfect streak. A mark that was temporary. A trail that would wash away. But the bleeding of his heart was not something that would go away with the wipe of a tissue.  
  
Harry erupted from his chair once more; it wobbled and then fell onto its side. He staggered towards the door, as if there was a magnet drawing his hand to the doorknob. The door flew open, and light from the main office streamed into the dimly lit room of the Minsitry.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said urgently, rising from the chair. "Harry, where are you going?"  
  
"To do what these damn detectives should be: to find Hermione." And the door slammed shut behind him.  
  
Dumbledore felt his hands shaking as he slipped back into the chair. "Oh dear," he murmured to the silent room. "Oh dear."  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
A/N: Thanks everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the next one will be soon! I hope you're grateful :o) Cuz I wrote this all tonight when I should have been studying for my 4 tests tomorrow. AHHHHH!  
  
P.S. No spell checker in notepad. Sorry, I'll go back and revise later!!! 


	10. Fall upon my knees

A/N: Hi! This chapter is out pretty quickly, don't you think. It seems shorter than the last chapter but I don't think it is--wait, I just added to it. Now it seems longer. Hmmm... I am slowing the pace a bit and bringing Dani back into the story--remember, he was the "counselor" and all and he knows about Harry's situation with Ron and everything.  
  
Thanks for your support with the story. To answers q's, yes, I wrote those poems. If you'd like to see more of my work, please read my 1st poetry collection, or skip around it, it's finished. I also started on my second, called "On the Short Side" (the first is "Bittersweet").  
  
Well, here we go.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. There, isn't that clear enough? No es mío.  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Go away," Harry snarled as he stormed through the Ministry Investigations Office, knocking over a stack of papers from a desk. They fluttered all over, and the man in pursuit of Harry jumped over where they now lay on the carpeted floor.  
  
"¡Espera!" the man tried once more, jumping over a cabinet drawer in Harry's trail of destruction.  
  
Harry stopped for a moment, tensing every muscle in his God-given body. "Dani?"  
  
Dani caught up and stood, hands on knees, panting for a moment or two. He straightened and looked into Harry's eyes that were diagonally focused on the floor. "Hey, Harry, what's up?" Harry snorted and began to go; Dani grabbed his elbow and pulled him back. "Okay, it's not the time for smalltalk. But do you need to talk about what happened?"  
  
"Talk about?" Harry roared, and Dani was taken aback. "What's to talk about? Hermione is gone! Kidnapped, missing, who knows--she could be dead! What's to talk about?"  
  
"Harry," Dani said sternly, tightening his grip on Harry's arm. "You're acting rashly. You need to calm down. Okay, Harry, where are you going, huh?"  
  
"To find Hermione," Harry said persistantly with downcast eyes that wouldn't look at Dani's face. "I'm going to find Hermione."  
  
Dani jumped right in. "Where's that, Harry? Are you just going to walk out of here and say 'Hey, I bet Hermione's in the Astronomy Tower'? It doesn't work that way, Harry. You're not at Hogwarts."  
  
"I know that!" Harry exploded, yanking himself free of Dani's grasp. He didn't leave, however. "Don't you know that I know that?" He closed his eyes, but the tears wouldn't come. "I can't cry anymore," Harry whispered as he sank into a desk chair. "I just can't cry anymore."  
  
"I'm taking you back to Hogwarts," Dani said soothingly. Harry didn't fight it as Dani guided him by the shoulders out the door of the office.  
  
Harry blinked hard and looked up into the sky. The clouds were gray and swirling around threateningly as the cold wind howled and pierced Harry's face and hands with their glacier-like sharpness. It was funny how that morning the day had seemed so bright and hopeful. The day had somehow become 4 p.m.--he had arrived at the Ministry an hour after finding out and had been questioned for three subsequent hours.  
  
"Come now, Harry." Dani beckoned to Harry who's upward eyes remained motionless. Slowly Harry tilted his chin back and down and, with one last wistful sigh towards the heavens, he nodded and followed Dani down the street.  
  
They would be traveling by Floo. Harry stood in front of the fireplace at the Floo Station on the corner of Morado and Marron street and watched the flames leap up and down, casting an eery glow around the otherwise darkened booth. A look from Dani prodded him on, and so Harry tossed the powder in, said, "Hogwarts," and jumped in.  
  
Harry waited for Dani once he reached the Hogwarts sitting room and sat, legs entwined like a pretzel, on the cold, glossy wooden floor. He hadn't sat that way--"criss-cross apple sauce"--since he had been a small child, and here he was at seventeen, waiting for his teacher to come and comfort him while he sat like a five-year-old.  
  
He didn't even look up as Dani emerged, coughing and heeling over for a minute or two. "What am I supposed to do?" Harry asked quietly. There was resignation in his voice, the resignation of a hero who had admitted defeat. Dani didn't answer immediately, so Harry continued in a cracked voice. "I can't just go about my day like nothing's different. And I can't go out and find her. What do you expect me to do? Sit here?"  
  
"That might not be a bad idea," said Dani. He sat beside Harry on the floor, in the same childish position. The whole time Harry's eyes never left a random spot on the floor that he stared at for no reason but to not have to look at anything else. "Do you want me to get you a tranquilizing potion? I'm sure Professor Snape could brew one up with Poppy's consent."  
  
Harry looked up darkly and said in a deathly distant, low voice, "Do I look like I need a tranquilizer? I'm not jumping around or having a panic attack. I just want some answers."  
  
"We don't have answers right now." Harry was surprised that Dani's tone sounded edgier, and more impatient. "Hermione was kidnapped. You were under the inducement of a Novocain spell; she was under an Imperius potion. Motives aside, that's all we need to know. Returning her safely is our primary concern, not what the kidnapper's incentive was."  
  
The room was eerily quiet for a moment; the silence was as thick as the stuffing in Pansy Parkinson's padded bra. Finally, Harry whispered dully, "It's because of me, isn't it?"  
  
"Most likely," Dani agreed.  
  
"Thanks for the clarification," Harry nodded. "You could've left out that bullshit speech about not knowing the reasons."  
  
"I know, but it added a nice touch didn't it," Dani smirked. He exhaled painstakingly and shook his head sorrowfully. "Jesus, Harry. When I was a 1st year--over sixteen years ago--I remember sitting in my Transfiguration class when the announcement came about Voldemort's downfall. The story of you, a tiny baby, defeating the all-powerful wizard spread like disease through these corridors. I remember thinking, 'Wow. This kid must be the luckiest kid in the world. I wish I was him.' But it's not that easy being Harry Potter."  
  
"I know," said Harry grimly. "I don't know why I didn't see this coming, though. That day, when he was going after either Hermione or Ron, he went to Ron's. I should've known that he was going to eventually come after Hermione."  
  
"You assumed that it's Voldemort," Dani mused. "I guess that's likely, but don't think that he is the only enemy in the world. I suppose," Dani continued hoarsely, "that anyone close to you is inclined... how should I word this? Inclined...?"  
  
"Most likely to be added to Voldemort's hit-list?" Harry shrugged casually. He let his legs stretch out on the floor. Filch really did put a lot of effort into those floors. Harry could smell the polish. It was very much like a mixture of lemon and vanilla.  
  
"Putting it lightly, yes, yes they are. I was going to say it a bit more gently, but if you choose to break it down like that..."  
  
"You can't really expect me to sit here."  
  
"I know."  
  
Harry looked up sharply. "What do you mean, you know?"  
  
"I'm just saying," Dani said; this time he was the one avoiding eye contact, "that if you were to get up and climb back into that fireplace, I might choose to look at the other wall and happen to not notice."  
  
"But you said earlier...? You wouldn't stop me?" Harry asked increduously.  
  
"Don't get me wrong," said Dani as he laid off a casual yawn. "I think it's incredibly foolish. The odds of finding her are a million to one, let alone what you'd do once you found her. But, would my disapproval really stop you? As we stay in Spain, un hombre mero no puede controlar a otro hombre mero."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"A mere man cannot control another mere man. Go on, Harry. You're wasting valuable time, which is something I do disapprove of. I've never been one to support idleness." When Harry just stared, Dani prodded him on with his eyes. "Have you really forgotten how to travel by Floo? Go, go on."  
  
Harry shot Dani one last long, grateful smile, tossed the pink dust into the hearth, and with the words, "The Manor," Harry was off.  
  
The passageway by Floo was a whirlwind as always. Harry kept his eyes closed and lips pursed, as the Weasleys had advised many a time. "The Weasleys," Harry shuddered. "They're gone now." It's not my fault, he willed himself until he believed it. And then he opened his eyes.  
  
It was amazing, it was frightening, it was crazy, it was sane. It was purple, it was yellow, it was black, it was clear. Harry felt overwhelemed at he was hurled through some sort of awing demension. Colors sliced by and riccocheted off walls. Light shows danced at their speed on endless virtual celings. Things flashed, things bounced, things squirmed. It was an adrenaline rush like no other.  
  
"The Manor," said Harry, collecting his thoughts, although there was no way that he could hear himself speak, "is a good place to start. Hermione may not have attained special permission to leave grounds on this vacation, but a certain Slytherin did and is bringing along my former best friend. If he had anything to do with this, I swear I'll..."  
  
Dani uncrossed his legs and let his back fall down until he lay sprawled out on the floor of the Hogwarts sitting room. A faint aroma caught his attention. "Mmm," Dani said, "Lemon. Lemon and vanilla."  
  
"Mr. Chávez?" The door creaked open and Dani suddenly realize dhow stupid he must look sitting on the floor, alone. He quickly scrambled to his feet and dusted off his robe as he gave the woman framed in the doorway a sheepish grin.  
  
"Artura Alexis? I thought we'd meet up eventually."  
  
"Looks like eventually is now," she said through pressed lips.  
  
"How's life been treating you, Lexa?"  
  
"I see you still call me that nickname."  
  
"And yet you're calling me 'Mr. Chávez.'"  
  
"I see your point," said Artura as she took a tentative step forward. "Dani," she said hesitantly, as if the name was unfamiliar. "Dani, I need to tell you something. Something very important." Her eyes were open wide and her voice was urgent. Dani took her hand and sat her down on the coffee table.  
  
"What is it, Lexa?"  
  
"I'm only telling you this because I love you."  
  
"Lexa..."  
  
"No, shutup and listen," she snapped. A few tears began falling from her eyes. They landed on Dani's robes as he comforted her. "Daniel, I made a mistake."  
  
"We all make mistakes," he answered soothingly. Dani ran his fingers over her matted hair, noticing for the first time that the bags under her eyes were evident from lack of sleep.  
  
"No, Daniel," she said, shyly meeting his eyes. Hers very very serious. "I made a really, really bad choice."  
  
"You're calling me Daniel," he said fearfully. "Lexa, what is it?"  
  
"I didn't want to," she sobbed. Her shoulders heaved up and down. "My father said that it was the right thing to do. Daniel, I don't know what to do, I need you."  
  
"Lexa, you didn't." He dropped his arm from around her waist, stood up, and began backing away. "Please tell me you didn't."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Daniel. But I need to tell you, because I need to help you." She lifted up the sleeve of her robe and turned her arm over to show the glowing black mark on the inside of her wrist. "I became a--"  
  
She screamed immortally as the mark began to flash violently. Dani rushed forward, without thinking. "Lexa!" he screamed. As he touched her, he was repelled like a magnetic field. He didn't even think. "¡Alguien! ¡Nos ayuda! ¡Por favor, alguien ayuda!"  
  
  
  
  
***FLASHBACK***  
  
  
  
"You know what I love most about you, Daniel?" Artura Alexis whispered as she ran her fingers through her boyfriend's dark hair. They broke apart breathlessly.  
  
"Dígame (Tell me)," he replied huskily, staring into her soulful eyes.  
  
"You're so pure. Real. True."  
  
Her answer took Daniel Chávez aback and he frowned, crinkling his dark brown eyes. "Not all men are like your father, Lexa."  
  
"I know," she sighed as she sat on one of the cardboard boxes in the utility closet. "He's so powerful. When he walks into the room, everyone listens. They respect him."  
  
Suddenly Daniel was very turned off and decided it was best to not continue their make-out session. "They don't respect him, they fear him."  
  
"Maybe so," she replied, her eyes in a dream. "But at least they respect him in their fear."  
  
"It's hard to respect someone so cold-blooded," Dani retorted. "How can you look up to him, Lexa? You've always been amazingly ambitious, but never cruel."  
  
"My father's not cruel," she said angrily, standing up and hitting her head on a shelf. She giggled lightly. "Don't be so harsh, Dani, I'm not saying that I'm going to go out and become a Death Eater."  
  
"I know," he murmured as he returned his lips to her head. "You're better than that, Lexa."  
  
As he spoke those words her eyes opened wide with a guilty secret that Dani wouldn't notice nor believe until over a decade later.  
  
  
  
***END FLASHBACK***  
  
  
  
"¡Nos ayuda! ¡Por favor!" Dani's words echoed throughout the corridors of Hogwarts. It even reached the vacant closet where they had once spoke those words, over ten years ago.  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
Madame Pomfrey sat in a swivel chair in the infirmary as she aided Neville Longbottom's chest. It had been cut deeply in the fight, and required a certain spell. "Emrico Enjilus," she whispered. There. The wound would be fixed in less than an hour.  
  
She almost jumped out of her seat as the doore flew open with unmatchable power. The new Potions teacher, Daniel Chávez, stood in the doorway with a wild look in his eyes. In his arms he held the archery teacher, Artura Alexis. Her body was limp. "Por favor, nos ayuda, por favor," he was saying over and over again. Fear grasped Pomfrey's body, but she refused to let it show.  
  
"Mr. Chávez, please, calm down. I can't understand Spanish. Take a deep breath." She had a feeling that he called her a "stupid idiot" but she let him take a brief moment to catch his breath.  
  
"Madame Pomfrey, Lexa has a Dark Mark, and it began flashing and she passed out. She still has a pulse. Please, help."  
  
"Lay her down there," Poppy commanded as she pointed to a bed between Neville and Dean, who looked curiously out of the corner of their eyes. "Now, Mr. Chávez, she'll be fine. Death Eaters experience pain when they are summoned, and if she was in an emotional state it may have been too much for her. She'll be fine."  
  
"When can I talk to her?" he asked as he leaned close to where her body lay.  
  
"She'll wake up in an hour, I'm sure."  
  
"I don't have an hour!" he protested hysterically.  
  
"Mr. Chávez!"  
  
"No, she was telling me for a reason. I think she knows something about what's going on!"  
  
"Mr. Chávez, there is nothing 'going on' beside a routine kidnapping of a smart student," Poppy snapped. The boys propped themselves up to hear better. "If you want to play secret agent then be my guest, but I will not wake her up prematurely for you to continue with these deranged ideas. Now go back to your room, and come back in an hour or so."  
  
"You don't honestly believe that!" Danny hissed, flailing his arms up in the air. "There is nothing routine about this, Poppy, and you know it. I'll be damned if I'm going to wait another hour and jeapoardize the safety of our students. I'm going to ask you again, nicely, please use your healing powers to wake up Ms. Alexis."  
  
"And I'm going to say again, no."  
  
"Then I'll have to ask a little less nicely," Dani said. His voice was icy and cold. "Did you know that the Crucatius curse can be used legally when absolutely necessary?" He ran his fingers along the redwood of his wand and took a step towards the small, round woman. "In 1994, a teacher at Beauxbatons used it on a nurse much like yourself when she refused to disclose information about the whereabouts of a dangerous and possibly murderous student. Now, I'll ask you just one more time. Wake Ms. Alexis up."  
  
Poppy's face was white with fear. She turned to where Artura's body lay. "Yes, Mr. Chávez," she said quietly. "Right away, Mr. Chávez."  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Still under notepad, so can't spellcheck. Once Word is up I promise to thank all reviewers, but it's too weird and annoying under notepad. It isn't stopping me from posting, though. :o) The poems are mine, Dani and Lexa are mine, remember them from previous chapters? A nice spin, I think, to the story. Well, thanks a lot for reading and don't forget to review! 


	11. Find a way to lie

A/N: Hey! It's 7/2 and fanfiction.net has returned in read-only mode and I'm just starting the 11th chapter of "Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed." I love this story-it's such a drama!-and I hope that this chapter is up to par with the others.  
  
We're into the climax, or at least getting there, with these last couple of chapters. I think you already know how it's going to end. With Hermione, at leasy. With Harry, well. I haven't decided. I do remember a review that I once got for this story that gave me an idea. So he might make it out alive. He might not. We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?  
  
Yeah, and there are a couple of Artura Alexis flashbacks-bet you guys didn't know she was such an important character in this, eh?  
  
Oh, and for some reason I love using Nar Litkins and Guy Wimsdon-along with Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Neville Longbottom. I generally don't like throwing in OC's, but this story needed a couple-Guy and Nar. But, the thing is, I think I'm handling it well because they're not main characters, and with all of them I love having bits of their personalities showing on the sidelines of the story. JK really didn't provided 'em for Dean, Seamus, and Nev, and at this point I practically regard Guy and Nar as part of the characters that JK actually mentioned. I even mention their names in "Draco's 24 Hours of Life," rather than making up two new names. :o)  
  
Disclaimer: Dani, Lexa, Lexa's father, Nar, Guy, Ropes, the people at the Death Eater "extravaganza" and the plot are mine. Everything else you see here is brought to you by JK Rowling and her Harry Potter series.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Artura Vivacia Alexis could see the platform. It was tall, looming above her like a foreboding power that was above her not only in presence. Choosing to ignore the chills running up and down her spine like skittish mice, Artura-or Lexa as they fondly referred to her as-felt for her father's strong, callused hand and gripped it tightly. She grimaced as he carelessly shook her off. "Lexa," he hissed. "Let go. Get a hold of yourself."  
  
She refused to be offended; surely her father was simply too preoccupied with the ceremony at hand. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her dark robe. Lexa had never worn this robe before, and it itched a little. She knew how disrespectful it'd look, though, if she scratched at her side while the master was giving his speech.  
  
Lexa fidgeted, and whispered up to her father, "Father, when will he call my name?" Her father turned to her and, with a much fonder smile, said, "Soon, baby." He patted her hand affectionately and gazed off to where the Dark Lord stood on the platform. His expression was glazed over. "Alexis should be one of the first names called."  
  
Lexa felt good, and she felt bad, and she felt good. Being in that auditorium was making her skin stand on end in an eerie fashion, but her father's beaming eyes meant everything to her. She was finally sixteen and eligible to become what her father had wanted her to be since day one-a Death Eater.  
  
"Alexis, Artura," the young, handsome blonde man to Voldemort's side announced. He was reading off a scroll of long, weathered parchment. Her name must have been on that list for a long time.  
  
"Go on, baby," her father prodded her. She drew in a breath and took shaky, woozy steps onto the platform. She felt intoxicated-physically woozy but carefree on the inside. Lexa barely noticed as she nearly stumbled on the wooden platform that she had admired from afar. The hooded Dark Lord slowly turned to her, his holographic-seeming being flickering spasmodically. Lexa flinched, forgetting herself, but soon the sloppy grin returned to her teenage lips. He lifted his wand elaborately over his head, and then in one swift motion swished it down to point at Lexa's forearm and bellowed, "Signum pullus!"  
  
Lexa's bliss did not fade; rather, it disappeared wholly into a searing pain unlike any other. She reared back to scream but no sound escaped her lips, and she stood motionless and silent like that for what seemed to be eternity. Someone, somewhere released his hand on her arm and it fell to her side. Her eyes opened, and she saw what she had seen all too many times before. But never had it seemed so frightening. The Dark Lord's face.  
  
And before she could scream her father was at her side, comforting her and cooing that it would be all right, everything would be all right. And Lexa believed him. Her fists closed on air as she groped for his hand to hold, but she could not find it. Artura Alexis fainted.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*  
  
  
  
"DANI!" she screamed, bolting upright in bed. She was sobbing hysterically, the tears blurring her vision. But she could see him, right in front of her. He was real, right there, and not part of her dream-no, she had woken up.  
  
His strong arms wrapped around her, and she laid her head on his shoulder, shivering from a cold that was absent from the room. "Lexa," he murmured. His rich, clear voice sounded surprised. "You're so cold." It only made her hold him tighter, afraid that he's draw back. When she finally settled down the smallest bit, she relaxed her grip and simply held him, not ready to completely let go. What if he left?  
  
She finally opened her eyes and pulled back to look into his own; their dark brown color was clouded with concern, worry, and uncertainty. Looking past, she realized that she wasn't in her bedchambers. "Dani? Where am I?" Before he could answer, she caught sight of Madame Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Her hands were fidgeting, and her eyes kept shooting around the room with nervousness. "I'm in the infirmary," she answered for him.  
  
"Lexa," he urged, taking her slender hands in his own. "Do you remember what you were saying before you blacked out?" His grip was so gentle. her dream! She remembered. She had dreamt of her induction. To become a Death Eater! Her mark! Was it too late?  
  
"Daniel!" she wailed, throwing the covers off of her. He lunged forward and restrained her from jumping out of the bed. Her sparkling green eyes danced with importance. "Daniel, I need to tell you. It's important!"  
  
"I know," he soothed. She felt his hand tense.  
  
"Voldemort," she cried, noticing that Dani didn't flinch at all. "He's prepared for Harry."  
  
Dani sat back, pondering this as she stopped to catch her breath. Her hands were shaking-she was frantic, and as much as he tried, Dani couldn't calm her down. "Lexa, Harry just left by Floo moments before you burst into the room. He said he was heading for. for." The Pociones professor scratched his chin, trying to trigger his memory.  
  
"The Manor?" she asked, fearing the reply. His hands went limp; she grasped them with enough strength for both of them. "He did, didn't he?" Dani had gone white. She had received the answer that she hoped would never be. "Daniel, we need to get there. Now."  
  
Dani shrank back, eyes darting around. "What can we do?" he finally asked hoarsely, daring to meet her eyes. He winced. "What will happen once we get there?"  
  
Now Lexa quivered. Rolling up her sleeve, the Dark Mark glowed in a new light. "Dani," she said, "the Manor is the threshold of Voldemort's operations. Lucius is his right-hand man. Any attempts to apparate or Floo to enter if you do not have a Dark Mark or have the blood of the Malfoy or a marked one with you will be thwarted."  
  
Dani cleared his throat nervously, timidly reaching back and lacing his fingers with hers. "How so thwarted?"  
  
Lexa gulped. "In Harry's case," she whispered shamefully, "directly into the hands of the Dark Lord himself."  
  
Dani nodded, though he shook violently. Pomfrey tried to step forward. "Get away!" Dani barked at her-she burst into tears and scurried off. Watching the nurse flee from the room, Lexa felt the remorse of her sins like she had never before. It had gnawed at her and eaten away. But it was devouring her now, and she held onto Dani's hand like it was the plug to her life- support machine. And at that moment, it might as well have been. Finally, he spoke, his words wavering. "And if I were to attempt to Floo to the Manor?"  
  
Lexa paused. "You'd be fine."  
  
Dani looked up sharply, questioning with his eyes along with his words. "But how?"  
  
Lexa's eyes bore into the floor. She didn't speak. Dani's eyes searched for hers, and she finally whipped her head up and stared him in the eye. Firmly, she nodded. "Because I'll be with you."  
  
Dani nodded solemnly. "All right."  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Something was going terribly wrong.  
  
The colors that had surrounded Harry's Floo voyage were fading and slipping down intangible walls like dripping paint. In fact, everything seemed to be falling to a floor that wasn't there except for Harry. He couldn't see any other Floo travelers. Something knotted in his stomach, and it wasn't the turkey loaf Ropes had offered him.  
  
"I won't panic," Harry vowed silently, but regardless of his thoughts, panic was seeping into his veins and threatening to cut off his logic. It didn't help that the wind, harsher than it ever should have been, had just stolen his wand from his hand with a single torrent of a gust. Harry grasped to hold onto both his logic and his wand, but didn't succeed at either; "There must be some, uh, technical difficulties," he assured himself, but not even the most gullible member of the Longbottom family would believe it, Harry included. How could magic have technical difficulties?  
  
He scanned his brain for some charm or spell that could be of any use. What would happen if he apparated mid-Floo? He vaguely remembered reading about a teenage girl in Kansas names Dorothy who attempted this feat and ended up in some sort of dream-world that involved tiny Munchkins. Needless to say, it had been a disaster. Harry decided it best not to try that.  
  
And could he summon his Firebolt IV? It didn't seem possible, considering that Floo travel was sort of in a different dimension-not to mentin that he had lost his wand. And if he did somehow get his broom, of what use would it be? Where would he fly-if he could fly, against the howling winds that threatened to drown out even his internal thoughts? It whipped his shaggy dark brown hair into his eyes, and his vision was temporarily hindered by his uncut bangs.  
  
The Floo Operator! Of course! Harry shook his head, wondering why he hadn't thought of it sooner. At each Floo station there was an Operator that you could contact if you ran into troubles. Even though Harry had been coming from a private fireplace-at Hogwarts-the nearest Floo station should still pick up his call. Now what was that blasted word that he needed to say to get the Operator's attention? "Respicio," he bellowed. Yes, he could hear himself ever so slightly above the wind's angsty screams! It would be okay.  
  
But Harry waited for several minutes. Where was that damn Operator? "Respicio," he said again, this time half-heartedly. No one was coming, and no one was going to. Harry Potter was no longer in the realm of the Floo Travel Network.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*  
  
  
  
When Artura Alexis had been fifteen-years-old, her father received a notice by Owl Post. "You and your family are humbly invited into our home to share in the celebration of our baby boy, Draco Adrian Malfoy-Neiman, son of Lucius Acerbus Malfoy and Narcissa Venusa Malfoy-Neiman, born at 2 a.m. on the 19th of May." Her father had read it, this note of a seemingly normal birth announcement, with tears of joy. Never had she seen him so pleased.  
  
The date had been for the next day, May 20. "Hannah," he had barked to her mother. "Cancel our engagements for tomorrow. Narcissa has borne the child! A male child!"  
  
Lexa had been too ignorant to understand fully the extent of why the child being a male was important, but she understood jealousy. Had her father really wanted a son so badly? She knew that, being a female, she couldn't rise quite as high in ranks as her father and his friends, but she could still follow in his footsteps and become a Death Eater. She had spent the rest of the afternoon pouting while her mother and father arranged the Portkey location, ordered champagne, and chattered cheerfully with their fellow followers via the fireplace.  
  
Her mother awoke Lexa extra early the following morning. Lexa dressed in a poufy purple dress that she found horribly tacky and tied a white satin ribbon through her hair. Strapped in her Mary Janes, she reluctantly followed her parents through a gum wrapper Portkey.  
  
She landed uncomfortably on a gravel path. Lexa gaped at what lay ahead of her. The Malfoy Manor. Though a place of evil, its columns and intricate exterior designs had a captivating beauty all of its own. Only a tug on her sleeve by her father could tear Lexa's awed eyes away from its grandeur.  
  
Inside, it was even more fascinating-if possible. The portraits of Malfoy ancestors all had a majesty to them, some intangible confidence that they had kept within their frames all of these years. Each had the same perfect nose, not upturned but giving off a superiority vibe, and steel, ocean-like eyes that watched the hallways of the Manor as it inundated with influxes of followers eager to meet the heir of Voldemort's most trusted man. They were a very handsome lot, the Malfoys. Evil, but handsome.  
  
"Conor!" exclaimed a round, busty woman as she treaded through the crowds and made a motion to embrace Lexa's father.  
  
"Hello, Louise," he replied with a tight, unpleasant smile that made Lexa snigger as he caught her eye. The woman, Louise Bellua, wrapped her father in her thick, fatty arms, causing her father to squeak for air. His face turned a grotesque shade of purple, and he nearly collapsed on the floor as she released him from her prison-like grasp and turned to her next victim ("Ernest!" she cried out, sidestepping where Lexa's father remained gasping.).  
  
Her mother appeared at her side, chuckling about Louise and her many victims, judging my how many men were out of breath at the affair. "Come now," she said to Lexa, taking her hand in her own. "I want to go see Cissy's baby."  
  
The new arrival was wrapped in thick blue velvet blankets so that even his head was barely visible. His mother was standing over his cradle, cooing and at the same time shooting threatening looks at those who attempted to pick up her bundle. Lexa let herself be led to the front by her mum so that she could see the baby, who seemed quite disgruntled. And who could blame him, being fussed over by all of these old, wrinkled, bitter women, Lexa had thought.  
  
His head, poking out of the blankets, was swathed with white-blonde curls, which Lexa thought unusual for a newborn.* And, of course, his eyes and nose matched those of Lucius and every boasting face of the hallway portraits. Yes, Lexa was certain that even this tiny child had a smug sort of sneer on his infantile lips. She ducked back into the crowd, regardless of the fact that her mother had stayed to congratulate Narcissa, or "Cissy," as her mum fondly referred to her long-time friend.  
  
Eventually the punch ran out, all the gifts had been given, the drunks had drunken themselves silly, the women had cooed, the men had jostled, conversation weaned, and it was time to leave. As she landed on the grass by her home after using the Portkey to depart, Lexa realized for the first time how cold she had been inside the walls of the Malfoys' home.  
  
Never had Lexa returned to the Manor.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Until now, that is.  
  
She clutched Daniel Chávez's hand even more tightly than before. Letting her fingers slide down to his wrist, she could feel his pulse. It was rapid, even more so than her own. She studied his eyes, but they were blank and shielded. He's scared, she knew. But he's so much stronger than I am about this. Than about everything. Dani's own father, Sevástian**, had been a Death Eater-mainly the reason why Dani hates his family name so much- until he got killed when Dani was fourteen at the hands of-whom else but- Voldemort. But Dani had always resisted. And I, Lexa sighed, wasn't as strong as him then, either.  
  
She could hear Dani breathing beside her; he squeezed her hand and attempted to weakly smile at her. "¿Eres lista? (Are you ready?)" he asked huskily, his eyes wandering off into the embers of the fire. She didn't need to answer. Using his other hand, he rubbed the rough grains of Floo powder between his fingers in thought. Then, without allowing further hesitation, threw the fine particles into the fire and said, devoid of any feeling, "The Malfoy Manor." He anchored Lexa to him with his arm around her waist and jumped into the flames, yanking Artura Alexis with him. She would have helped in his efforts to jump, but found her body going limp with fear.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Harry Potter noticed the difference immediately. For one thing, it was no longer so spacious and free feeling. Also, rather than being colorlessly dark, it was now simply black. Yes, he was certain that he had now landed in a pitch-black room after some sort of mishap with the Floo Network. Whatever it was, he scratched his chin, they can expect a really long complaint notice in their suggestion box come Monday.  
  
He dusted himself off, for he had landed straight on his arse. At first his steps were uneven and shaky; it had been at least fifteen minutes since he had stepped on a solid foundation. He lifted his hands and Harry felt along the wall directly in front of him. It was hard, and most definitely stone, but the curious thing was that it felt rather damp and left his fingers feeling moist and dewy.  
  
Harry wasn't sure if he was in the Malfoy Manor. After the accident with Floo, he could've landed anywhere. "What if," he wondered aloud, "I landed myself in a high tower prison with no door and no staircase and I'll be trapped in here forever? Even worse, what would become of Hermione?"  
  
It can't be a tower, Harry realized, because it's so dank. Then it must be in some sort of dungeon. I'm in a dungeon. I'm in a dungeon. Can this get any worse?  
  
Trying to calm his anxiety, Harry began to pace only to find out that the room was much too small to be considered of proper size. And Harry wasn't the claustrophobic sort; he had spent eleven years of his life in the cupboard under the stairs, and this cramped room rivaled the cupboard in small size. Harry found that its ceiling wasn't very high either when he stretched. His fingers grazed the top of the apparent cell; it was stone too. In fact, it seemed to be a human-fitted cage with stone walls instead of bars. Well, one side had bars anyway, but he could only tell by feeling around. There was no light coming in from the bars, causing Harry to conclude that it was the room that the cell was in was dark, rather than a closed cage itself.  
  
"Crimity," Harry muttered. He was wandless, eliminating summoning his broom or his wand-if he could ever retrieve his wand from the Floo Network-he couldn't apparate without knowing his current location. What use was being a wizard if he couldn't use his powers to get out of a mess such as this?  
  
On his last resort, Harry began feeling around the lower parts of the wall for some sort of trigger to free himself. As far as he could tell, it was simply a stone wall. His fingers were gathering even more moisture, but that was the least of his problems.  
  
Especially when Harry's hands ran over the top of someone's skull. He froze, backing away in horror until his back hit against the opposite wall of the cage. His hands trembled. His breathing became ragged.  
  
Harry Potter was not alone in the cell.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*  
  
  
  
*Yes, I realize not only is it improbable for a newborn to have a head "swathed" with curls, it's pretty impossible. I really wanted to distinguish the Draco-look. So let's pretend. :o) **You can spell Sevástian with an accent or without. I just shrugged and chose to use the accent.  
  
A/N: Ok, so I was pretty mean about putting a cliff-hanger in, but oh well, deal with it. Since I sort of know where I'm going from here, it won't take too long to get the next chapter out. I finished this chapter at 5 p.m. on July 3rd-I started it yesterday, slacked off watching TV, and got back to it today-but that doesn't really matter since you won't see this for a couple weeks. Sad, I know. Now onto my next chapter of "Road trip." That's the only story so far that I don't have rady to post when uploading comes back. Not that you'll know the difference, since they'll all go up at the same time.  
  
Thanks to chapter 10 reviewers. There were only 13, but I understand because of all the difficulties going on with fanfiction.net. The review option flickered several times, I just hoped that you enjoyed it. So, anyway, I got to go eat. Lol, writing, eating, sleeping=my summer. :o) See ya.  
  
  
  
Adios~Escritora 


	12. About a home I'll never see

A/N: Hey! It's Sunday afternoon and *yawn* I didn't sleep last night, but that's ok-I'm out of it enough to be able to write the next chapter of "Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed," which is always (usually? Often? Ok, sometimes) a good thing. And I did get ten reviews for the last chapter, which is the minimum I like to get. Oh well, I'm almost done with this anyway.  
  
You'll notice that Harry and Hermione aren't the only main characters in this, which-as I've been told-is unusual for a story, especially a romance- ish one. Artura Alexis and Daniel Chávez have been major characters, and friends like Dean, Seamus, Nar, Guy, and Nev(ille) have played some important parts-and looky here, they're back for more! Yeah, I just loved writing about them so much that I thought I'd bring 'em back for the coming of the finale. Maybe when I finish up this story and some others, I'll write a spin-off (think Frasier out of Cheers or Laverne & Shirley out of Happy Days. okay, okay, so I watch Nick at Nite.) involving those guys. I already have one started on another tight Gryffindor group-Seamus, Dean, Lavender, and Parvati-but that's in no reference to this story and most likely won't be posted for a while (if ever).  
  
By the way (great song!), the beds in the infirmary are set up like so (L(R) Guy Neville Lexa's empty bed Dean Seamus Nar  
  
Oh, and this chapter really should be called "Boys will be boys," 'cause for the first two pages they really act like guys. You'll see.  
  
Okay, so, here's chapter 12. Almost done. Shouldn't be more than 15 chapters. Adios!  
  
Disclaimer: Stealing from one is plagarism; stealing from many is research. Just call me a scientist. ;) Ok, so Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and family, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and everyone else that you recognize is from JK's series. Dani, Lexa, Nar, and Guy and a couple others are mine. It's really that simple.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
"Nar," Seamus whispered to the boy in the hospital bed to his right. "Did you just hear that? Hear. what I heard?"  
  
Dean sat up before Nar could reply. "Harry's gone to the Manor. Voldemort's going to kick his arse," he stated blankly.  
  
Seamus nodded. "Yep. That's what I got."  
  
Guy rolled his eyes. "Good to see we're on the same page, Seams." Seamus scowled. "Look at Nev," Guy chuckled, tilting his head toward Neville Longbottom. "Sleeping like an infant." At that moment, Neville snored heavily in his sleep. Guy was the only one who laughed.  
  
Dean shook his head, half in disgust of Guy's stupidity, half in frustration of the situation. He looked out at his friends: Neville; sleeping soundly, Guy; chortling like a race horse, Seamus; begrudgingly eyeing Guy, and Nar; blinking like he had just woken up in Oz and hadn't the faintest clue what was going on. "Guys," Dean said. No one showed any sign that they were listening. "GUYS!"  
  
"Just another minute. urgh. blog." Neville groaned into his pillow. Nar smacked him with his pillow.  
  
"It's better that he's sleeping," said Nar matter-of-factly. "I remember when they starting taking blood tests at the beginning of our sixth year. Nev passed out straight onto the floor. Gave Hannah Abbot quite a fright, I tell you. He's been anxious in the infirmary since. Hates to be here."  
  
"What are we going to do, guys?" asked Dean, basically ignoring Nar's rather trivial speech.  
  
"Well," said Guy, finally calming his easily amused self down. "Professor Alexis said that you can't get to the Manor by Floo unless you're with someone of either the blood of a Malfoy or a Death Eater. Or if you're a Malfoy yourself. This is the time to reveal any weird family tree linkages," Guy added, a little too seriously.  
  
"Why are you staring at me when you say that?" Seamus snapped, still peeved for minimal reasons at Guy Wimsdon.  
  
"Oh, grow up!" Dean snorted, abandoning his own pillow to toss at Seamus. Seamus, instead of growing madder, tucked the pillow under his head and laid back down peacefully. "Listen, Malfoy's an only child (a/n: although many ff.net writers claim otherwise with their oc's. lol). We're not going to find Malfoy blood." He paused before he continued, lowering his voice cautiously. "Do we know of any Death Eaters?"  
  
No one spoke. They only stared around at each other, each meeting another's eyes and shifting on to the next person to examine them. Seamus rubbed his hands together, considering. Thinking. Contemplating. "Snape," he finally shot out shortly, only to regret the single word immediately from the shocked stares it drew.  
  
"Snape," Nar said tartly, "would not help us if we were on fire and about to roll over his favorite Collector's Edition version of Potions Weekly: The Anniversary Issue." The others nodded, agreeing, but Nar didn't stop. "Not even," he continued, "if he was on the cover of it, being honored for inventing some amazing potion, and it was the only copy left on the face of the-"  
  
"That's quite enough, Nar," Guy cut in irritably. "I think it's safe to conclude that Snape will be of no help."  
  
"So then what?" said Nev groggily, surprising everyone by sitting up in bed. "I mean, we can't just leave Harry to. y'know."  
  
"Die?" Seamus suggested.  
  
Nev shot Seamus a dry look.  
  
"And we're not going to," Dean said carefully. He stood up and snatched his wand from the bedside table. "Vestio," he said, and his hospital gown was quickly replaced with his clothes and Quidditch robes he had worn out onto the field before the fight. They were muddy and grass-stained, but much better than the itchy-and awfully revealing-white gown. He pointed his wand at his friends before they could open their mouths to protest. "Quoque," he proclaimed, and Nar, Seamus, Nev, and Guy found themselves in their dirtied Quidditch robes as well. No one complained, needless to say.  
  
"But how are we going to get there if we can't Floo?" Nar inquired, lacing up one of his sneakers. "I mean, it's way too far on broom, there's no portkey set up, and I highly doubt that any of you know how to apparate."  
  
"What about the Knight Bus?" Neville suggested as he straightened his robes and checked his teeth in the mirror; yes, they were still crooked.  
  
"Gee, Nev," Guy said. "That would take, like, an hour. We'd be in time to pick out invitations and order flowers for HARRY'S FRICKIN' FUNERAL!" He looked ready to attack someone by the time he finished his sentence. Neville, muttering, retreated into the bathroom. A wise move.  
  
"Wait a second!" Dean jumped where he stood, startling the rest of the boys. "Oh." he was muttering. "Oh, dear." He began to pace the length between his and Seamus's bed. Then, abruptly as he had jumped up, he stalked over to the bathroom and flung the door open. "Nev, did-oh. Sorry." Abashed, he shut the door. Three pairs of rather confused eyes stared at him, expecting an explanation. Dean turned as pink as his dark skin would allow. "Oops," he shrugged sheepishly.  
  
"Well, he came out this month. I win the pool."  
  
"Oh, shut it, Nar," Dean glowered. He pulled a face as black as thunder as they waited in stony silence.  
  
Moments later, the toilet's flush could be heard and Neville cautiously creaked open the door. "Er, hello," he said uncomfortably. "How may I help you, Dean?"  
  
"Remind me to brutally maim you all with the hospital bed pans when we get back," Dean smirked.  
  
"When we get back?" echoed Seamus confusedly.  
  
"I," Dean said proudly, "have a plan."  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
  
Dani released Lexa, and she fell limply to the floor with an unpleasant thud. He dropped down to the floor to scoop her up, but she shook him off. "Are you all right?" he asked tenderly, taking her hand to help her stand. She obliged, nodding.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Where are we?" He turned to see the rest of the room and found himself breathless. Never had he seen the likes of this room before. The carpet was a thick, lush green, darker and richer than the grass outside but even more so vivid and real. The wallpaper was simply off-white, but adorned with at least twenty portraits of nobles staring idly down at himself and Lexa, framed in elaborate gold borders with nameplates at the bottom. Leaning closer to one of a knight holding his helmet, with long, curly blonde hair to match his thick beard, he read the plate, "Sir Josiah Malfoy, IV." The knight indignantly refused to say a word or utter any noise at all.  
  
A bookcase of gold wiring, filled with old, expensive looking books, stood in the corner, towering over a polished redwood desk, accompanied by a tall matching chair. Otherwise, with the exception of a rounded rug in the center of the floor, the room was bare.  
  
"I don't know," Lexa murmured. She was as lost in its beauty as much as he was, peering over at papers set on the desk. "It appears to be the study."  
  
Sharply, Dani turned to her, knocking her cold out of her dream-like state. "Where would Harry be sent?"  
  
"All I know is, to quote Lucius Malfoy, 'right where the master wants him.'"  
  
"A bit vague, isn't it?" Dani snorted.  
  
"Well, you can't have everything you want."  
  
"I know," he said, unable to hide the doleful note in his voice. He refused to look at her. "Let's just find him, okay?" He grabbed the knob and jerked it with all of his pent up frustrations and regrets.  
  
And it nearly caused him to break his wrist; the door was locked.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry's scream caught in his throat as he sank to the cold stone floor of the far wall of the miniscule holding cell. The word "don't" was rapidly disappearing of his repeated vow of, Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic. There was someone else-perhaps a dead someone else-in the cage with him. That wasn't a promising fact.  
  
It was too dark to see, but the person hadn't been moving. Harry forced himself to stop panting for breath for a moment to hear that the body wasn't exactly breathing regularly either. However, he could hear a faint something. Okay, so he's not dead. Maybe he's dying. Oh, God. Should I feel his pulse? What if it's. no, it can't be.  
  
It-er, he. or she-groaned out of the blue. Harry was too startled to jump; he only froze. His muscles hurt from constantly tensing on and off, but at that moment he honestly didn't notice nor care. Should I say something? What if it's a Death Eater? No, Harry, they wouldn't lock a woozy dark minion up in a cell with you. Before he could settle his debate whether or not to speak, the other person took the initiative. "H-hello?" he croaked- yes, it was certainly a he, Harry noted. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed that it wasn't Hermione.  
  
"Who are you?" he trembled, pressing his body even harder against the wall. He heard the person shuffle his position, or perhaps stand up. "Stand back!" he warned.  
  
"Jesus, is that you, Harry?" the voice moaned.  
  
Harry was too stunned to speak.  
  
"Oh, God, it is you, isn't it?"  
  
Harry stuttered for words, his jaw dropped to his feet. He could almost hear it clunk against the floor. Blinking hard, and thankful for the darkness to hide his expression of a gaping idiot, he whispered incredulously, "Ron?"  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
  
"If this plan involves looking at me naked again, I'm not playing!" Neville warned quickly. He wrapped his robes around him protectively.  
  
"Nev, you fainted 'cause of the blood tests in 6th year, right?"  
  
Neville gulped, nodding. He looked faint just being reminded of it.  
  
"Well, does anyone remember where Pomfrey kept the samples?"  
  
"Who had this week for the vampire pool?" Guy grinned. Dean was, to say the least, not amused.  
  
"In the cooler," Neville quavered; he lifted a frail finger to point at a tiny little cooler underneath the sink. "I've had nightmares about that cooler," he shivered, and, if possible, pulled his robes even snugger against him.  
  
"I don't see how all of Hogwarts's students' blood phials could fit in there," Nar remarked.  
  
"I'm betting that it's magical, don't you think?" was Guy's dry reply.  
  
"And besides," Seamus piped up, "there's only a couple hundred students."  
  
"Fine," Nar said. "But I still don't see why it matters."  
  
By then, Dean had flipped the lid of the cooler to find that it was indeed magicked and was rummaging rather carelessly through the phials of crimson blood. He grimaced as he caught sight of one that was green-ish. He read the student's name off the label. "Hey, guys, I wouldn't suggest any of you do the dirty deed with Piper Kling any time soon."  
  
"Why not? Isn't she that cute Hufflepuff 5th year?"  
  
"Yes, Guy," Dean smirked as he lifted the green phial for them to see. "Very cute, don't you think?" Guy nearly gagged. ("And I borrowed her pencil last year!" he exclaimed with horror.)  
  
"Hey, Nev, these phials aren't so big!" said Nar. "Look, you fainted over that?"  
  
"It doesn't look like a lot," Neville sniffed, "but I swear, it was much more than that.  
  
"Sure, Nev. Whatever you say."  
  
"Here it is!" he yelled, flinging a test-tube upward in his hand so quickly that he nearly lost his grip on it.  
  
"Wow! You found a tube of blood in a cooler full of tubes of blood! Imagine that!"  
  
"Clamp it, Seamus. This is Draco Malfoy's blood sample."  
  
No one spoke, and Dean simply stayed there, crouching on the floor holding a tube of Draco Malfoy's blood, waiting for it to dawn on someone-anyone. No one was biting. "One of us can drink it." Still no fish. Dean could practically hear the crickets chirping. ".So that we can go by Floo."  
  
"Oooh!" Guy was the first to understand; "Disgusting!" he quickly scowled, and even though Guy wasn't a fan of the idea, Dean was thankful that he wasn't alone on this planet. It took Nev, Seamus, and Guy a few more moments; their reactions closely mimicked Guy's initial take on it.  
  
"I don't think any of us are willing to drink that. that. thing," Seamus declared, repulsed as he pointed at the phial in Dean's hand.  
  
"Would you rather it be injected into you? Or we could cut one of us with a knife and then pour the blood on the wound? Personally, I find drinking less messy."  
  
"If you don't think it's such a big deal," Neville pointed out, managing to control the stutter in his voice, "then why don't you drink it?"  
  
"Because," Dean answered with a smart smile, "One-I'm a hemophiliac, so I can't cut myself and have to be careful with injections. And two-Pomfrey gave me a tetanus potion after I got cut on the bleachers. I can't drink or eat anything for an hour or it won't work."  
  
The four other boys sent him steady, resentful glares. Dean took a step back.  
  
"You think you're so smart," Nar muttered. "Just 'cause you can read minds."  
  
"A hemophiliac can't read minds, you arse," Guy said bitingly.  
  
"Then how'd he know to step back?" Nar was shooting threatening looks Dean's way. "I'm not putting any Malfoy blood inside me. I might get evil or something."  
  
"You're so stupid, Nar."  
  
"Shut up, Guy."  
  
"Oh, how original."  
  
"I mean it. Shut up, for once in your life."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean, Litkins?"  
  
"You heard exactly what I-OW!!" Nar jumped a foot back, and Guy Wimsdon hadn't lain a hand on him-yet, anyway. "DEAN! WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL?!" And bloody was just the beginning. It was spurting from the space between Nar's neck and shoulder like a water fountain on a nice hot day-no, more like a fire hydrant. "OH, BLIMEY! OH, OW!"  
  
"Chill, Nar," Dean said calmly. "I'm going to put some of Malfoy's blood on your cut now."  
  
"NO YOU WILL NOT!" Nar screeched. He blindly thrashed around the row of beds, then picked up a chair that he held defensively in front of himself. His robes were soaking with blood that matched the scarlet fabric almost perfectly. Actually, Dean had plenty of Nar's blood on him, too.  
  
"Nev! Seams! Guy! A little help, please!" Dean said, trying to edge closer to Nar who would have none of it. The three approached from Nar's sides in an effort to restrain him. As they grabbed his arms, Dean rushed forward. But, an unfortunate thing happened.  
  
Dean tripped on the long, ragged hemming of his robes and went flying forward; he landed at Nar's feet. The phial flew up in the air dramatically, high above any of their heads. But the real problem was when it came down. Because the phial, about seven inches long and an inch in diameter, was just as magicked as the cooler. And it held a bit more than 5.5 cubic inches of thick, crimson blood. It splattered all over all five boys, soaking their hair and shoulders with Malfoy blood. As they stood there, at loss for words and completely bewildered, Neville was the first to finally speak. "Nar?"  
  
"Uh. yeah?"  
  
"I told you there was much more in the phial than it looked like."  
  
Nar swallowed hard. "Point taken."  
  
Dean shuffled to his feet, the blood on his back as well. "Did you get it in your cut?"  
  
Nar nodded. "If the stinging is any sign, then yes." Dean looked unconvinced. "Yes, Dean, it went right on there. I promise."  
  
"Y'know," said Guy, wiping his blood-covered hands on his robes without a thought. "Didn't Professor Alexis say, 'Any attempts to apparate or Floo to enter if you do not have a Dark Mark or have the blood of the Malfoy or a marked one with you will be thwarted'?"  
  
Seamus shrugged, wiping his cheek. "Something like that."  
  
"Then, theoretically, couldn't we have just done this-cover ourselves in his blood-in the first place? Rather than cut Nar and put it inside him internally?"  
  
After Guy explained to Nar and Neville what 'theoretically' meant, Dean felt his very own life in danger. "Um. Don't you think we should go to find Harry now? Rather than kick the bloody hell out of me?"  
  
"He's right," Seamus sighed ruefully. "We've wasted enough time. Who has the Floo powder?" No one answered. "Dean nearly slit Nar's throat, and we're covered in Slytherin blood. Tell me someone has Floo powder," Seamus said loudly. "Oh, crikes."  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
  
"Move aside," Lexa ordered as she pushed Dani accordingly. "Alohomora." The lock clicked, and she turned to smile sweetly at her former beau. "Staying calm in the face of danger is an asset I've always had."  
  
"Right," Dani drawled. "Like when you broke down crying, and then nearly fainted when we used Floo. That was calm, Lexa." Pouting, she swung open the door and walked out haughtily. Dani followed.  
  
They found that this particular hallway was, while still posh, a bit less regal seeming than the study had been. "Where to now, Your Highness of Calmness?"  
  
"Dani."  
  
"Fine," he said. "But I'm serious. You were one of them; can't you find, like, the secret lair?"  
  
Lexa raised an eyebrow. "The secret lair? You've been watching too many movies, mi amigo."  
  
Dani shrugged. "So, which way is it?"  
  
Lexa mimicked his gesture. "Beats me."  
  
They were interrupted by voices coming around the corner. "Shit," she whispered, looking frantically around. "Quick, in here!" Dani restrained himself from yelping as she grabbed at his collar and yanked him into. a broom closet?  
  
"Geeze, Lexa," Dani smirked obstreperously. "Right here, right now? Ohhhhhh. that was a cheap shot, Lexa."  
  
"Shhh!"  
  
".one of the 'geons, I d'know which, but y'can bet we'll be 'spected to sweep it before and after," said a rough, raspy male voice.  
  
"Prob'ly the Mors Mortis one," said another voice, this one softer and less grating.  
  
"Yeah, but I hear that's where they're keepin' the tray'er. 'Aint 'nuff room in that little cub'cle for two, I'm tellin' yer. Ah've cleaned that 'nuff times t'know."  
  
"They're janitors!" Lexa hissed softly, breaking Dani's concentration.  
  
"It's a perfectly respectable job."  
  
"No, no! That means they're going to come in here! This is the supply cabinet!"  
  
"Oh. That does create a problem, doesn't it?"  
  
The light flickered on, and Dani saw Lexa let go of a metal string attached to a light bulb on the ceiling of the closet. "Quick, hand me that box of paint and give me your handkerchief." Dani handed both over-his handkerchief reluctantly-and watched curiously as she pulled out a tub of black paint and squirted it onto her fingers. She rolled up her sleeve; Dani shuddered at the sight of her Dark Mark. Without the slightest hesitation, she took her paint-covered fingers and touched them to her mark.  
  
"What are you doing?" he hissed. She ignored his comment, rubbing a generous amount of black paint to completely cover it. Then, she took the handkerchief, which she had tucked in her blouse pocket and. rubbed the paint on her fingers all over it?!?! "Lexa! I'll have you know that that's imported silk!"  
  
"Roll up your sleeve!" she demanded, but instead of waiting for him to react, she grabbed it and rolled it up herself before he could protest. The footsteps were becoming so much louder, the voices more clear. "Stay still!" And she grabbed his arm and placed it over the wet paint.  
  
"What are you-?" Dani started, but he was cut off by the stopping of the footprints right outside the door. She pulled away, and before the door could creak open, Lexa threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.  
  
Dani didn't have time to react; the door opened and the dimly lit room flooded with the rest of the Manor's light. Staring at them, perhaps as surprised as Dani was, were two midde-aged men in jumpsuits. Dani was ready to push Lexa off when she finally broke apart from him and looked breathlessly back at the two men. "Hello," she giggled uncharacteristically. Dani only blinked at her.  
  
One man smiled, but the shorter one frowned sternly. "Who are you?" he asked-he was the keeper of the raspy voice.  
  
"Oh, me? I'm Desdemona Euphrates. And this," she said, lifting up her finger to affectionately trail down Dani's chin, "is my boyfriend."  
  
"Wos 'is name?"  
  
"His name?" Lexa-or "Desdemona"-giggled airheadedly once more. "This is Mark Estefan."  
  
Dani gripped Lexa's shoulder; the past minute's events were being clearer, but it was still quite absurd for him to comprehend. The taller man smiled gently. "Can we see your ID's, please?"  
  
Lexa blanched. "ID's?"  
  
"Yes. Your marks."  
  
"Oh! Oh right!" Lexa turned to show the men her left arm, adorned with the Dark Mark, and nudged Dani to do the same. "Mark, show them your ID, dearest." Dani shifted his eyes nervously back from Lexa to the men.  
  
"All right." he said uncertainly. When he made no movement, Lexa grabbed his arm and shoved it in the man's faces.  
  
"See it?" she said a bit too quickly.  
  
The men studied Dani's mark. Both "Desdemona" and "Mark" held their breath, anticipating the worst.  
  
"G'day," the soft-voiced one said, taking a broom from next to Dani. The men continued strolling down the long corridor.  
  
The two stood there in the closet, panting for breath, for a long time. "I was so nervous," Lexa admitted as Dani inspected his "Dark Mark."  
  
"Desdemona and Mark?" he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling relaxedly.  
  
"I saw their names as novice Death Eaters on the desk in the study," she confessed, laughing freely from the adrenaline. "Oh God, that was awful."  
  
"Not all of it was."  
  
"Dani."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Well, I have to admit it; you did stay calm in the face of danger. Let's head to this Morty Morrison lair and find Harry, shall we?"  
  
"Mors Mortis, you mean?"  
  
"I guess," Dani said. "How'd you remember that?"  
  
"I took Latin before Hogwarts." Lexa shivered, suddenly cold underneath her thick work robes. She rolled down her sleeve. "It means 'death.'"  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Hi! I started in the afternoon, and I've been writing on and off since and it's now a quarter to midnight. Ahh.. Well. I think the quality of my writing slipped towards the end, but I was kind of in and out of it, so forgive me. Hopefully I'll be getting some lovely reviews. :o) They mean a little too much to me. lol. See ya next chapter, and thanks for reviewing!  
  
The Infamous Rin (Sirius's Soul Mate): Thanks for reading from my plea on Road trip. You will be thanked! You just HAVE to read the rest though-the site only showed the first chapter when you read it. WHOA going onto my 8th Mic Word page. Go me!  
  
Willow-Ahh, thanks so much! I love when people have my stories on their favs, it makes me feel all warm and tingly inside. or maybe that's the electric heater. wait a second-I don't have an electric heater. (Thanks.)  
  
Jaimie C. JC-I have answered your question. mostly. Details to come. Thanks for your review!  
  
Alicia Jennings-Yeah, I celebrated when I got your review, seriously. That was so nice! I live for reviews like yours, they make me IM my best gal friend and toture her by exploding with giddiness. Heh heh. Thanks so much.  
  
Runaway Gobstopper-Sure, I'll go check it out either tonight or tomorrow when I wake up. I'm always eager to read a new fic. I'm registered at schnoogle, but mainly to read Cassandra Claire's stuff. she had better update Draco Veritas soon! I'm not sure if it's long enough to post there, but I'll look into it. Thank you!  
  
The Lady Lillian-Well, third time's the charm, it is indeed scumbag, as you so affectionately refer to him. lol. I should really put more of Harry into these chapters, he IS the main character. er, he's supposed to be. Gracias!!  
  
the-vampire-Senora-Yo tambien! Es mi idioma favorita. although English is my first language. lol. Well, I wrote it. thanks so much!  
  
Moonlight Dreamweaver-Thanks!! Yeah, shit happens, and it happened to Hermione. :o( I have it worked out, mostly, and it's more sad than you'd think. That's, like, how it actually drives Harry to suicide attempts.  
  
Medrillia-Yes, a wicked twist. however, I'm going to have to refrain from using it. Thanks anyway. lol. And thanks for your niceness and reviewing!  
  
Snuffles-Hey, that's what I want to call my band: No Pun Intended. However, I know nobody who can sing, play bass, or drums, so it hasn't really worked out. Thanks for reviewing, and some cliffs are somewhat necessary (ok, so part of it's writer's block.lol).  
  
  
  
Can't thank you guys enough! Now REVIEW. Or something bad will happen. not to you though, to me, and it's called disappointment. (I always back out of threats.lol) So, see ya next chapter, thanks for reading. Oughtta get to bed, shouldn't I?  
  
  
  
Adios~Escritora 


	13. It may sound absurd

A/N: Hey! God, I love this story! I seriously think it's my best one. Anyway, I can't believe the end is coming (ahhh!). Thanks for your support and all that good stuff. Climatic, aint it?  
  
I have to ask: Do you all see Nar and Guy as two OC's? I mean, admittingly, when I read a fic sometimes I don't really give a flying shit about a character because it's an OC. Maybe it's because I'm the author, but I feel like Nar and Guy are as much as real characters as Dean and Seamus and Neville. Is it just me? Please, let me know!  
  
Personally, I dislike this chapter. This chapter, well... it's this chapter.  
  
Disclaimer: Mine=Guy Wimsdon, Nar Litkins, Daniel Chávez, Artura Alexis, the sitting room, aspects of the Manor, personalities, and the plotline. Not mine=Everything else.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
  
"This isn't enough," Seamus stated matter-of-factly, sifting his fingers through the fine grains of powder that he had scraped off of the lemon- scented wooden flooring. He was on his stomach, flat against the floor in front of the fireplace, trying to pick up every grain he could-but there were only so many.  
  
"You're right," Dean nodded grimly, sweeping a few particles from his fingers and crawling into a sitting position. "This is futile. Each of us needs at least a pinch to hold between our fingers."  
  
"What's a pinch?" Nar asked, scratching his forehead. Little silvery streaks were left behind on his temple from the traces of powder. "Ow!" he griped, grabbing for his backside. "Not that kind of of pinch, Seamus!"  
  
"So how much do we have?" inquired Guy, pulling up and kneeling against the mantle. The front of his robes was coated with sheer silver sparkles that refused to be dusted off. A streak also appeared in the bangs of his shaggy caramel hair, but no one paid attention or characteristically sniggered.  
  
Dean frowned, staring at the small pile he had collected in his hands, and then at the even tinier amounts that his friends held. "I'd say... well, there are five of us, right? We have enough for... for... three of us to go, I'd say."  
  
"Why can't we all travel on the amount of one?"  
  
Dean's frown deepened. "What do you mean, Nev?"  
  
"Well," said Neville uncertainly. "If we all could've held on to one person with Malfoy blood, like you had first said, Dean, then why can't we do the same for Floo?"  
  
Guy shrugged. "It's worth a try, I suppose," the sandy-haired boy said, biting his bottom lip with his clean white chompers. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"  
  
The boys stared at him as if he had just declared his love for a rabid purple dancing monkey (a/n: hey, it could happen!). "Guy," Seamus said slowly. "Think about what you said."  
  
Guy only blinked in response. "What?"  
  
"I know you're Muggle-born," said Dean. "So am I. But honestly, Wimsdon, this is magic that we're talking about! The 'worst that could happen' could really, really be bad." Guy didn't seem convinced. "I mean, we could get lost forever or get really hurt or simply vanish into thin air."  
  
Guy turned white.  
  
"Well, I refuse to let anyone be left," Nar said stubbornly, folding his arms. Sprinkles of Floo powder drifted to the ground, and Neville eagerly scooped them up. "We're all going," he added haughtily.  
  
Seamus rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Listen, we're wasting time and Nar's making an arse out of himself. Now, who's going, and who's staying here?"  
  
The five boys looked around at each other nervously.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
"Ron?" Harry repeated, still flabbergasted as he sunk back down to the floor, his back still rigid against the wall. "Is that you?"  
  
"No, it's Helga Hufflepuff. Of course it's me," Ron Weasley snapped weakly, his voice the only distinction of it being the truth in the darkness. "Unless, of course, you really were expecting one of the founders."  
  
"Not funny," Harry croaked, his breathing ragged and uncollected.  
  
"Honestly, Potter, you sound like a dog. Quit panting, would you?"  
  
"Shut it," Harry grumbled, resenting Ron's attitude. "Anyway, why are you in here?"  
  
No reply was heard.  
  
Harry grinned in spite of the situation. "Oh, I see," he smirked cattily, relaxing his shoulders into a hunch. "Malfoy and the Death Eaters turned against you, eh?"  
  
"It didn't happen like that," Ron insisted a bit too passionately. He paused, and Harry waited. "I didn't know I was intended to become one of them," Ron said quietly.  
  
"Oh, honestly!" Harry snorted. "You mean to tell me that you thought you could be a virtual Slytherin, buddy up to Malfoy, praise Voldemort-" Harry could almost hear Ron flinch "-and insult Muggle-borns, and then they wouldn't expect you to become a Death Eater? That you were just heading to the Manor with Malfoy for a nice, countryside vacation?"  
  
Again, Ron didn't respond.  
  
"Oh. Oh, God. You did, didn't you?" Harry shuffled uncomfortably in the cell, stretching out his knees so that both hit against opposite walls. Something twanged in his heart, something that he hadn't expected to feel for Ron ever again.  
  
Sympathy.  
  
And then he scowled, forcing himself to not feel sorry for the callous person that Ron Weasley had become, and would have turned away if room had permitted. "That still doesn't excuse the way you acted," Harry said softly. As much as he tried, he couldn't fit anger into his voice.  
  
"Do you want me to say that I'm sorry?" Ron's voice suddenly cut through the air like a knife, edgy and dangerously low. "Is that what you want, Potter? A goddamn apology? Would that make everything better?"  
  
"No," said Harry simply.  
  
"I was being sarcastic."  
  
"So I noticed."  
  
"Y'know," said Ron sharply. "Just 'cause we're stuck here together doesn't mean that we have to talk."  
  
Harry agreed to this by not replying. He was angry, truly angry. The situation; perilous, the prospects of escaping; slim, the hope within Harry; fleeting, and now any help he could have gotten from Ron was diminished by the sore redhead who wouldn't let go.  
  
"This is stupid," he suddenly said loudly.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I don't know," said Harry. "It's just, well, here's the way I see it. You may insult the bloody hell out of her, but I doubt you want Hermione to die. Obviously, neither do I. The Death Eaters aren't too friendly with either of us right now, and it wouldn't hurt to get out of this little prison-thingy. Can't we just forget that you hate me with a passion just for an hour or so?"  
  
He waited for a response, the tension in the tiny cell insurmountable. Finally, Ron grunted. "It wouldn't kill me."  
  
Harry reached to shake Ron's hand, but missed in the dark. If not for the knowledge of what lay ahead of them, Harry would have blushed something furious.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"You're calling me Harry."  
  
"Yes, I'm aware of that."  
  
"All right then. Go on."  
  
"You love her, don't you?"  
  
Harry blushed darker and pulled his jaw forward firmly. "Very much."  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
"This won't work," Ron said, licking the blood off of his fingers that was slowly trickling down from the sides of his fingernails. "This is the Dark Lord we're dealing with, not Fisher Price."*  
  
Harry scowled. "Well, when we tried to force ourselves through the bars, your oversized head nearly got stuck. I think trying to break through the wall is a better option."  
  
"Yeah, a better option if you're choosing between being urinated on or tar- and-feathered," Ron snapped.  
  
Harry tilted his head to side. "I'd pick tar-and-feathered."  
  
"Again, sarcasm."  
  
"Again, I noticed."  
  
And in spite of it all, they chuckled quietly together, not truly understanding why, but knowing that it was quite possibly the last laugh they would share in a long time. And with that thought, they put everything they had into it.  
  
When the laughter subsided, an unmentioned tension had been lifted, and they wordlessly got on their knees and resumed scraping at the cracks in the bricks. They ignored the dirtied blood that now ran down their palms and streaks their wrists, working diligently with a drive that only a life- or-death situation can bring about.  
  
Given a few hours, it's remotely possible that they could have gotten somewhere, even if it was only enough to stick one's finger through. But an unseen door swung open and blinding light flooded into the room, silhouetting two dark, hooded fingers framed in the doorway.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Dani and Lexa plodded quietly down the corridor, unsure of who or what they were looking for. They were, however, certain that they had ought to make getting to the Mors Mortis dungeon one of their top priorities, along with getting out alive and finding Harry-and Hermione. The custodians had talked of a traitor in the Mors Mortis dungeon, whose identity had gone unmentioned, but Dani and Lexa figured that the "death" dungeon was a good place to start out. Harry could be there with the "traitor," or they may be able to get information out of the side-switching chap.  
  
There was one small problem, however.  
  
"How are we supposed to find this Morrison Mort place, exactly?"  
  
"Mors Mortis," Lexa corrected sternly, but she had no answer for her dark- haired accompaniment. The corridor was as dark as the emblazoned mark on her forearm, and the torches lining the walls did little to help. They had tread cautiously out of the closet once they were sure that the janitors were out of sight, and found themselves in an identical corridor to the one that they had fled from. Needless to say, it was a rather confusing situation.  
  
"Haven't you been here before?" Dani asked impatiently, absently scratching at the imitation mark on his arm.  
  
"Once," Lexa said quietly. Dani didn't pry; he sensed that the topic was closed.  
  
"Well," he said, clearing his throat in a manner that Lexa found obnoxious. "We could ask someone."  
  
Lexa shot him a cynical look. "Oh, right. That'll work."  
  
"Why not, 'Desdemona'?" he smirked impishly, rubbing his stubble-covered jaw. "Who said that obvious is wrong? Look," he pointed as they turned the corner. A man was stepping out from a doorway, engrossed in flipping through a few papers he clutched loosely. And with a wink, before Lexa could part her lips to protest, Dani was striding confidently ahead of her and to the man.  
  
The guy lifted his green-gray eyes up from the sheet of white paper upon hearing Dani approach without tilting his chin. He smiled lightly as a greeting, although seemingly eager to get back to his work, and peered at the Spanish young man whose face held a toothy grin. "Can I help you?"  
  
"Hi," Dani said cheerfully, enthusiastically thrusting his hand to be shaken; the other man took the cue, briefly gripping Dani's hand in his own and then retreating it quickly. The man had dark brown, shaggy hair with light gray touches of age. He stared at Dani expectantly.  
  
"My name is Mark Estefan, and this-" Dani beckoned to Lexa "-is Desdemona. We're, uh, Death Eaters."  
  
The man narrowed his green eyes at Dani. "Uh, yeah. That is why you would be here, Mark."  
  
"Right," "Mark" said, undaunted. "Well, we just got orders to head for the, uh, what was that dungeon called, Mona?" Lexa didn't say a thing. "It started with an 'M,' didn't it, Mona?" Again, nothing. Dani balled his fists and turned to Lexa.  
  
He was surprised; she had gone white in the face and her jaw hung as if it had come unhinged from the rest of her mouth. "I don't know what's gotten into her," Dani said through clenched teeth.  
  
"You mean the Mors Mortis dungeon?" the man said to Dani, though his eyes were focused past him on Lexa. His head was tilted to the side in thought, and Dani was confused. But he knew that he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.  
  
"Yes, the Mors Mortis," Dani said loudly, aiming to break the connection and mildly succeeding. The man's eyes flashed back to Dani.  
  
Those very eyes had a suspicious demeanor about them, and Dani's blood ran cold. Why would this man have any reason to doubt them? What was wrong with Lexa?  
  
"Why do you need to go there?" the man asked sharply, tucking the leaflets under his arm like he had all the time in the world for an explanation.  
  
"Aimes and Abrahams told us that the traitor was being kept there and we should check on his consciousness," Dani heard Lexa say in a strong, unwavering voice that didn't match her shaky stance and blanched face. He turned, surprised, to find that some of the color had returned to her complexion and her fists were balled as tightly as his own. Realizing, he relaxed his fingers and felt the blood flow throughout them.  
  
The man's eyes flickered back to Lexa's, holding the fierce gaze with curiosity that Dani couldn't quite understand. "Robert Aimes and Leon Abrahams?"  
  
"Right," Lexa said confidently, and Dani couldn't believe his ears. What the hell was she talking about?  
  
"I thought Abrahams had returned to Israel to tend to his sickly wife."  
  
"All I know is that we saw him a few minutes ago in the Nyquist Room," Lexa said coolly.  
  
"All right then," the man said with matching intensity, only blinking curtly and then pointing his eyes at his papers. "Down the hall, third right, down four stairwells, down the corridor, fourth left."  
  
Dani eyed him warily before turning back to Lexa, whose line of vision still ended on the man's face. "Let's go, Desdemona," he said forcefully, taking a step back and grabbing her hand up from her side. "Thanks, Mr...?"  
  
"Riddle," the man said. "Call me Tom."  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
"Ready?" said Guy, cupping a pinch of Floo powder in the palm of his hand.  
  
"All set," Dean replied in a hard voice. "Sure there's no hard feelings, Seamus?"  
  
The Irish boy just grunted and folded his arms tightly across the front of his robes.  
  
"I'm ready," Nar said shakily, his tone contrasting with his words. "Are you guys sure I have enough powder?"  
  
"No," Guy said simply. Dean gave Guy a look.  
  
Dean Thomas, Guy Wimsdon, and Seamus Finnigan had rolled lots to see which two of the three would be accompanying Nar to the Manor, and they had done so in a hurry that pressed upon the situation at hand. It had been decided that Nar would definitely go because of his internal Malfoy blood-in case that was, in fact, necessary-and that Neville would not be attending because of, well, his fear and protests of, "Don't make me go! I can't do it! I'll bloody faint!" And, well, who can argue with that?  
  
Dean had rolled first, triumphant with his ten that practically guaranteed him a spot on the Hogwarts Three Rescue Team (a nifty little name that Nar had thought of while Seamus followed to roll a two, much to his blatant chagrin). Guy went on to roll a seven, and he, Dean, and Nar found themselves standing in front of the fireplace that two of their professors had recently departed from with a tiny amount of powder in each of their fists.  
  
"Go on." Nar nervously nudged Dean, who shot the pale-faced boy a resentful glare.  
  
"Why do I have to go first?"  
  
"Oh, for crikes sake!" Guy cried out. "The Manor!" he yelled as he tossed the powder into the fire before a word could be spoken and jumped after it into the fizzing flames. Nar and Dean watched him disappear, while Neville fidgeted behind them beside an indignant Seamus.  
  
"That guy's got balls," Nar said with awe.  
  
Seamus shook his head. "Nah, nothing too impressive."  
  
A round of "what-the-hell?" looks was tossed in his direction.  
  
"Oh," said Seamus suddenly, blushing deeply. "Was that meant to be a euphanism?"  
  
Dean shook his head disgustedly. "I won't even ask." And he jumped into the fire after Guy.  
  
Nar shot a timid look back to a terrified Neville and embarrassed Seamus, and then reluctantly followed suit. Droplets of blood from his neck splattered against the floor as he jumped.  
  
Seamus leaned against the desk, exhaling and closing his eyes tightly. He heard Neville speak cautiously from across the room.  
  
"What do we do now?"  
  
Seamus sighed, jamming his hands into his pockets. "We wait."  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~I almost stopped here. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Harry tensed, and looked to Ron. He squinted. The light let him make out the youngest Weasley male's features, and it frightened him. The blood staining from the tips of his fingers to his elbows seemed more real in the light. His skin was pasty, making his freckles appear darker. He had gotten skinnier, too, and these were differences that Harry knew couldn't have developed only in the past day. *I wonder why I never noticed the physical changes in him. They must have been clouded over by the internal differences.*  
  
But that was only the start. Ron had been beaten, apparent from the dark, gruesome bruises in the hollows of his cheeks and surrounding his narrowed brown eyes. There was blood on his disheveled, ripped robes that couldn't have come from his hands, and though hand-me-downs, Ron's robes were never in that shape.  
  
There was something else about Ron that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. His expression seemed so different from not only the best friend he used to have, but the Ron that had called him "scar face" and Hermione a Mudblood in class as well. He seemed... callused. And Harry could understand why.  
  
Harry's eyes darted back to door, where the two Death Eaters entered. Only, they weren't Death Eaters. One held a broom, and the other's belt held his wand and a few Muggle tools: a wrench, a hammer, and a handsaw that Harry found extremely daunting. He heard Ron's breath catch in his throat, and Harry knew Ron's expression of panic was mirrored by his own face.  
  
The two men lowered their hoods. They really weren't that intimidating looking, really. One was very short, and one was very tall. The shorter one advanced first, looking curiously through the bars of Harry and Ron's captivation. Harry knew without moving that the man was inches away from where his arm would stretch. No strangling for today. *Damn.*  
  
"Which one of yuh is the tray'er?" the shorter one asked. He still kept his distance, lingering at the doorway.  
  
Ron smiled weakly and sarcastically raised his blood-soaked arm at the elbow. "That would be me. Nice to meet you. I'm the traitor."  
  
" 'Am Joel Mayberry. Nice ter meet yuh." The taller man wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box. "I'd shake yer hand, but y'know..." He chuckled, whereas Harry and Ron could only look at him dryly.  
  
" 'Ait just a darn secon'," the shorter man said raspily, taking a step closer and peering at Harry, who flattened his bangs against his forehead instinctively. " 'At's 'Arry Potter! Look, Joel, ah can see 'is scar!"  
  
"I'll be darned," Joel said, putting his hands on his hips. "Won't Voldy- mort be happy to see that 'Arry fell right into his trap?"  
  
"Quite," the other man said, grinning to reveal a full set of yellow teeth. "C'mon, yeh get the tray'er. I'll get the Potter boy."  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged nervous glances. "I don't have my wand, do you?" Harry whispered.  
  
"If I had my wand, would I be faint from blood loss?"  
  
"Point taken."  
  
And they fell into a body bind as Joel flicked his wand. They watched, helpless and taut, as the two men greedily advanced on them.  
  
  
  
!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%  
  
  
  
"Weird fellow," Dani muttered as Tom Riddle disappeared down the hallway. He pulled on Lexa's hand, but she didn't move. "¿Qué pasa? (What's up, what's wrong?)"  
  
"Dani, that was Tom Riddle," she said numbly, her hand going cold in his.  
  
"Yes, that's what he said," Dani said gruffly, yanking on her hand once more. Still, she refused to budge. "Come on, we need to find Harry."  
  
Lexa took a deep breath, let go of Dani, and then took both of his hands in her own. "Daniel, if you want to find Harry...." She looked distantly down the corridor that Tom had disappeared from. "Then let's go."  
  
He blinked. "Go where?"  
  
"Daniel," she said, blinking in rhythm. "We're going to have to follow Tom Riddle."  
  
"Why?" Dani sounded annoyed.  
  
"Because Tom Riddle is Lord Voldemort."  
  
The man with an answer for everything couldn't think of a thing to say.  
  
  
  
!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%  
  
  
  
"Oh, and I was supposed to know that we'd land in Malfoy's bedroom?!" Dean cried, folding his arms uncomfortably across his chest as he quickly closed the door behind Guy, Nar, and himself. They found themselves in a long corridor much like those at Hogwarts.  
  
"Well, Malfoy wasn't lying when he said he wasn't a virgin," Guy said, and then cringed at his own words. "Oh. Oh, God. Ew, ew, ew."  
  
"What, Guy?"  
  
"Girls have actually slept with Malfoy," Guy spat as if the words tasted unpleasantly sour.  
  
Dean shrugged. "Maybe it was involuntary."  
  
Guy considered this. "I guess that makes it a little better. How are you holding up, Nar?"  
  
But Nar Litkins was cringing against the wall, his left eye twitching and his hands shaking. "I," he announced slowly and painfully, "am scarred for life. May my eyes never see again." He did the wizard's equivalent of crossing himself and reluctantly opened his eyes to find that his sight was, indeed, fully intact.  
  
"Did Malfoy see who we were?" Dean asked with urgency, twiddling his thumbs nervously.  
  
"He called me 'Butler,'" Guy offered.  
  
"That's a negative." Dean began pacing a short length of the corridor and looked up sharply at Nar and Guy. "We'd better find Harry. You heard what Professor Alexis said. 'Right into the hands of the Dark Lord himself.'"  
  
Nar shivered. "I would have preferred that to... to... there," he shuddered in the direction of the bedroom door.  
  
"That's funny, I don't see the 'This way to your group photo with Uncle Voldie' sign," Guy drawled disagreeably.  
  
Nar twitched again.  
  
"Right," Dean sighed, pressing his back against the corridor. "If I was an evil snake-like guy bent on world-domination and the prosecution of Muggle- borns, what room would I hide out in?"  
  
"Try the Neiman Drawing Room," drawled a cold, familiar voice.  
  
Dean, Nar, and Guy spun around in horror to come face to face with none other than Draco Malfoy, completely in the buff except for a white towel tied loosely around his waist.  
  
  
  
!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%  
  
  
  
*This isn't my first pen name, in a previous story of mine under a diff pen name I used this line. Just wanted to clear that up.  
  
A/N: Okay, that's enough. LET IT BE KNOWN THAT I HAVE NO OBJECTIONS TO DRACO MALFOY IN THE NUDE. But, I imagine Dean, Nar, and Guy would, y'know? Right? Right. Okay. It's four in the morning, but good citizen Tori is going to post anyway. I'll have my thankyous when I wake up tomorrow... which should be 2-ish. But thanks so much for all of your reviews! You guys kick ass. Arse. We're speaking British. You kick arse.  
  
  
  
Adios~Escritora 


	14. But don't be naive

A/N: Hey! Ok, keeping this short so I can go post. It's been forever. This isn't very long, like you desrve, so I'm sorry. :o( But, here tis!  
  
:o)  
  
  
  
~~~~~**********~~~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~~~~~******  
  
  
  
"What?" Draco Malfoy sneered, holding up the bath towel around his waste with his left hand and placing his right hand haughtily on his waste. "Couldn't get your own action so you decided to barge in on mine?" He paused, looking them up and down. "Why are you covered in blood?"  
  
Dean, Nar, and Guy were too speechless to reply. They only stood there, gaping like idiots while Nar's eyes twitched even more furiously than before. "Mal-Malfoy," Guy stammered, finding his vocal chords somewhat intact. "Wha-what are y-you doing?"  
  
"Well, Wimsdale, I was having some fun with Zabini's little sister. I could ask you the same thing."  
  
Guy scowled. "It's Wimsdon," he replied shortly. "And I don't owe you any explanation."  
  
"I think that you do," Draco said, raising a shapely eyebrow. "It's my house, whatever your last name may be. And in case you've forgotten, a certain group of black-cloaked wizards like to think of it as home as well."  
  
Nar gulped. His eye stopped twitching.  
  
"Malfoy, please," Dean pleaded, going to grab Draco's shoulders and then recoiling after thinking it over. "You can't..."  
  
"I can."  
  
"You can't."  
  
"Thomas, I can and I will."  
  
"No, really, Malfoy. You can't."  
  
"And why's that, Thomas?" Draco seemed awfully amused. It irked the three Gryffindors.  
  
Dean sighed, whipping out his wand to a shocked Draco. With a blasé wave of his wand hand, he said, "Do I have to spell it out for? We're going to make you."  
  
Draco nearly gasped, but it was only a moment before he collected himself with beady eyes and a lazy smirk. "Oh, c'mon, Thomas. You can't make me, Wimsal can't make me, and Litkins certainly can't."  
  
Guy growled. "WIMSDON."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever."  
  
"I most certainly can," Dean said calmly. He yawned.  
  
Draco snorted. "What are you going to do, hex me? Clean-cut Thomas? Are you going to make me vomit snails? Because that's the worst that you're capable of, and honestly, it's unoriginal. Weasley already screwed up that feat."  
  
Dean seemed bored. It was grating on Draco's nerves. "You can come along, knowing that any wrong step and I'll use a few nifty illegal curses." Draco made a scoffing sound in his throat.  
  
"Or what?" he sniffed.  
  
"Or I'll use the Imperius curse right now."  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes, sizing Dean up, The two locked eyes, Draco's gray pair locked intently with Dean's brown set. "You wouldn't," Draco drawled quietly, a daring note in his tone.  
  
"Is that a risk," Dean breathed, "that you're willing to take?"  
  
Neither boy blinked.  
  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
They were being led down a corridor identical to nearly every other one in the Manor leaving Harry and Ron absolutely no idea as to where they were going. Harry desperately wanted to talk to Ron, to see if maybe he could shed some light on their location, but that was impossible for obvious reasons. Harry had an itch to the left of his belly button. He couldn't even roll his eyes.  
  
"Lost? Yer got us lost?" the one referred to as Gordy bellowed at Joel. "Wos yer problem, Joel? Yuv ben workin' 'ere fer ten dang years. How didya get lost?"  
  
"Stop yellin'!" Joel hollered, stopping abruptly in the hall. Ron banged against the ground as Joel did so. "'Am doin' the bes' that I can!" he frowned, staring Gordy down, and then he nodded down a corridor turning sharply to the left. "There. That's where we're goin' ta," he announced, continuing to drag Ron.  
  
Harry sighed as he was bumped against the ground as well-but mostly out of fear. He had hoped that perhaps Gordy and Joel, the two buffoons that they were, would get horribly lost and give up. That didn't seem too promising at the moment. As they turned the corner, the edge of the wall jammed into Harry's stomach; internally, he winced, and thought words that should never be spoken aloud by a boy of his age.  
  
Joel propped open a door whose inside was darker than the dimly-lit halls. Harry's stomach churned. What if Hermione was hurt? What if she was...? Harry would have shook his head sharply, if he hadn't been under the Body Bind and hadn't been dropped fiercely against the ground once inside. He lay limp beside Ron.  
  
Motionless and aching on the tile floor, Harry was terrified. His scar was beginning to ache and he knew the explosions of pain would burst through his forehead and devour his entire body in a matter of minutes. He wondered if he could break the Body Bind-if the excruciating pain was enough to make him writhe. It was a dark thought. It intrigued him. His scar throbbed dangerously.  
  
As the lights flickered on, also came a voice.  
  
"Why--won't--you--die?!"  
  
Professor Daniel Chavez stood over the fallen body of a middle-aged gentleman, kicking him soundly in the ribs and face with each staggered word.  
  
The young professor glanced up at Harry and Ron's still bodies briefly, and did a doubletake. "Oh, hello Harry. Mr. Weasley." And he kicked the fallen man again in the chest.  
  
"Hallo, Harry," said a boy's voice from... above?!  
  
"Shh," another voice urged him.  
  
Despite the Body Bind, Harry was positive that he blinked. He blinked very hard.  
  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
  
  
"Last time I checked, the Dark Lord resembled a decaffeinated snake-man with pink eye."  
  
"Shhh!"  
  
"And he didn't exactly have a human body. Or impatience. Or a goddamn clipboard!"  
  
"Shhh!"  
  
"And-"  
  
"Shut up, would you?!"  
  
Dani fell silent as he followed Artura Alexis down yet another corridor. She laid her hand on his chest, signaling him to stop as the man they were in pursuit of rounded the corner up ahead. "All right, come on," she whispered, and Dani obeyed.  
  
"We're, like, thirty yards away. I could be jumping on his back in five seconds. If this is really the Dark Lord, then c'mon, let me-"  
  
"Dani," Lexa said sternly. "It really isn't the time for your macho business."  
  
He shrugged. "Point taken."  
  
"Listen," she whispered, flattening her back against the plaster wall as Tom Riddle turned the corner. "He has gotten strong. Very strong. I didn't expect for him to be in his mortal body in just a year, but he is. That's what he looks like." Dani's mouth formed an O; she tugged him forward and they crawled along the wall, silent and unnerved.  
  
Thirty seconds of silence passed. Finally, Dani leaned forward, his hushed voice tickling the lobes of Lexa's ears. "Do you think he's going to Harry?"  
  
Lexa wordlessly nodded. They went on.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
"Honestly," drawled none other than Draco Malfoy. "Do you have to watch me?"  
  
Guy gritted his teeth, cracking his knuckles gratingly against the bedpost. Beneath the sheets lay a hostile, and yet seemingly interested, blonde girl with smeared lipstick. "Trust me," he said disdainfully. "I'd rather eat Weasley's regurgitated snails." The blonde arched her perfectly formed brows. "And then excrete them into a pile of dungbeetles." She cringed. "And then eat that."  
  
"I get it," Draco said grumpily. He pulled his trousers up over his pale legs and fumbled with the buckle. Jas Zabini watch intently, giggling frivolously at each snap of the belt. "Would you shut it?" Draco snapped, reaching for a shirt. "It's bad enough that I have to dress in front of Wimsdale."  
  
"Wimsdon, isn't it?" said Jas lightly, rolling over in the sheets.  
  
Guy blushed and nodded furiously.  
  
"Try to pick up girls at your own house, would you?"  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy."  
  
Dean's voice sounded from the other side of the thick mahogany door. "All right in there?"  
  
"Peachy," Guy replied dryly, flopping onto the bed. His back straightened as he jumped back, realizing whom he had landed on. "Er, sorry." More giggling.  
  
"If you're done with Zabini, I'm all dressed," Draco sighed. His khaki trousers wrinkles from the knees to his shoes where they, uncuffed, spilled over his ankles. His light blue shirt was disheveled, buttons in the wrong hole up to his chest, where he apparently gave up. His face wore an expression that seemed to be more tired than angry.  
  
"Let's go, then," said Guy, jamming his hands in his pockets and nudging his head in the direction of the door. With an exasperated sigh, Draco followed.  
  
"Took you long enough," Dean snorted. He and Nar were relaxed, slouching against the wall with a dull disinterest. "Two garbage guys came by. Asked us what we were doing here."  
  
Draco tilted his chin forward. "And what'd you tell them?"  
  
"That we we were waiting for you to put your clothes back on after your sexual exploit," Nar supplied. Draco's face showed mortification for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.  
  
"I see," he said, face set. "Where to?"  
  
Dean's face hardened. "Where is Harry?"  
  
"Ah," Draco said lightly, slowly inhaling. "Potter. Why didn't you say something before? Right this way." As he strolled down a red-carpeted corridor, his back was turned so that he didn't see Guy attempt to lunge at him and get held back by Dean and Nar. Barely.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
They paused hesitantly down the hall from where the alleged Lord Voldemort had just walked into. Lexa and Dani, huddled together against the plaster wall, were conscious of the ruckus they were making-Dani exhaled loudly while Lexa took sharp intakes, alternating, as so that there was never moderate silence.  
  
"Should we follow?" Dani finally asked. He glanced down at Lexa, whose lips were pursed. Her eyes glared at a random spot on the opposite wall. Beside hung a painting of a sword, as sharp as their breath and shined to perfection. It was embedded with emeralds and diamonds, a sign of Slytherin pride. Dani shuddered.  
  
"Yes," Lexa said quietly, but she didn't move.  
  
"Well?"  
  
Lexa nodded, and they ran at full speed through the open doorway. The room inside was dimly lit. As their eyes readjusted and they made out the scene, they skidded to a halt.  
  
Three Gryffindor seventh years, all covered in blood, were suspended high in the air, arms and legs tied with a boy's clothing. Lord Voldemort, in his mortal form, stood with his wand at his hip and a lopsided smile. But the shocking part was the Slytherin afloat with the Gryffindors, who glided into a chandelier and chose this moment to lose grasp of his white bath towel.  
  
"Sorry, Draco," Riddle said coolly. "Next time I'll get real ropes."  
  
Malfoy blushed. He blushed all over.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~~~~~~~************~~~~~~~~~*********~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Hi! First, to clear up some confusion, they DID dress Malfoy, but Voldemort used Malfoy's clothes to tie everyone up. They are floating by the ceiling by 'Wingardium Leviosa,' I imagine.  
  
The next chapter is the last (I'll either include the epilogue with it, or publish that as a diff chapter, but you get it, right?). So. yeah. I'm sorry this has taken so long. It's short, but I couldn't let you wait any longer. I love you all, please forgive Escritora. With Turkey Break coming up soon I should be able to update my other stories as well.  
  
I'll post this now before I waste anymore time. :o)  
  
~Tori 


	15. Even heroes have the right to bleed

"I hate you," Draco spat disdainfully to a certain Guy Wimsdon, who had apparently been the perpetrator of Draco's graceful meeting with the chandelier. His hands, bound unbreakably with (in all irony) his boxer shorts, formed a cup over his Little Draco and Associates as his fully nude body drifted casually into a stone wall. His right shoulder barely reverberated before he was sent off in the opposite direction and crashed delicately into Dean Thomas, who scowled but refused to break his concentration from the scene below.  
  
Professors Alexis and Chavez stood in the doorway of the small dungeon. They didn't appear to be blinking. Or breathing. Or... really much of anything. They remained deadlocked with the man who was arguably the most powerful and/or evil wizard ever to flick a wand.  
  
"Ah, yes," drawled Tom Riddle, rolling his wand carelessly between his glassy palms. I see you found your way, Mark. And Lexa."  
  
"No, remember? Her name's Desde--"  
  
Lexa stomped roughly on Dani's right foot. She stared painfully at her fellow professor, her former boyfriend. Then she brought her heavy eyes to Riddle's. "I see I'm not forgotten."  
  
Riddle smiled. "Of course not." His wand halted between his hands. Nar breathily gasped.  
  
Dani stood ruefully, the pain subsiding from his littlest toe, when he heard the barest whisper. "Dani... now would be a good time for that macho business." Her fingers brushed his back as she flicked off the light. And before he could question whether he had heard it or not, he felt his body spring forward and his fist follow. He could feel the outline of Riddle's pronounced nose as his balled up fingers connected gruesomely.  
  
The man hit the floor, eyes wide open.  
  
A moment passed. "Holy shit!" Guy proclaimed, making an unrecognizable motion with his bound wrists. "Professor Chavez, that was awesome!" Dean gained momentum by swinging around his body until he was able to kick Guy pointedly in the chest.  
  
And Dani was over the man, delivering brusque, uninhibited kicks to his ribcage, chest, face, arms, legs... Riddle groaned, trying to twist away from his attacker, but he never blinked.  
  
""Why--won't--you--die?!" Dani through the words out through gritted teeth. The lights flickered on; he paused, puzzled. Two bodies lay on the floor, completely motionless while the two guards that had caught Lexa and him minutes earlier forgot the stiffs and whipped out their wands.  
  
"Oh, hello Harry. Mr. Weasley. And as his foot connected for the last time, it hit Riddle square in the jaw.  
  
"Stupefy!" drawled Joel, and Dani fell backwards, his shoulder and head smashing against the wall with the magnitude of broken glass. Lexa screamed as Dani fell forward in an unnatural, unhealthy slump before they petrified her. She was thrown in the same corner as Dani.  
  
"What was that there boy--Mark?--doin'? Oh my lordie, Mr. Dark Lord Sir, 'am so sorry! Joel. Joel, go get dat healer. Now!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`  
  
Harry lay still--as if he had another choice. A tiny woman in a black apron had leapt over his body like he was a track and field hurdle and was now attending to Lord Voldemort.  
  
He felt sick. Physically sick. Oh Hermione... he sighed silently. I'm sorry. I'm... so sorry. And somehow, some way, in spite of the curse holding him still, Harry vomitted violently. His arms sprung to action; he threw them over his stomach as he knelt over the carpet, retching nothing; there was nothing left to come up.  
  
He was tapped on the shoulder. Harry needn't turn around. "Now that you've had the crap kicked out of you by a Hogwarts professor," he said instead, "maybe you're ready to give her back."  
  
He expected the man to say no, to scoff at him, to tell him that he would die that day, in that room, and never see her again. Harry didn't expect the one thing that possibly could have made him feel worse.  
  
The Boy Who Lived whirled around defiantly, standing up to face the man who shook with laughter. "What?" he dared. "What?"  
  
"Potter," chuckled the man. "Potter, you're too naive." Lord Voldemort shook his head, settling his mouth into a dry, thin line. Harry only stared.  
  
"You see, Potter, I am a man, a wise man I'd like to think. And perhaps you thought this would be like in the fairytales you read; a boy like you comes along, playing the hero, to save the damsel in distress and conquers the--" Voldemort paused, amused. "--evil villain. And then he gets his love back and gallops away on his magic steed."  
  
"I prefer Floo, thank you."  
  
"Shut up, Potter," the "evil villain" snarled, suddenly losing the calm air he had shortly before held. "This is reality, Potter, you can't save her!"  
  
"YES I CAN!"  
  
"NO YOU CAN'T!"  
  
"YES I--"  
  
"NO, YOU CAN'T, POTTER, BECAUSE I ALREADY KILLED HER!"  
  
Silence hung in the air. But Guy, Nar, Dean, and Draco didn't. They clattered to the floor as Ron issued an ill-timed Finite Incantum.  
  
Harry blinked. "Wh--what?"  
  
"I killed her."  
  
Harry blinked again. "You... what?"  
  
"I did it personally. She cried when I came in. Told me you would come to save her." Voldemort shrugged. "Apparently she has that storybook idea too. Had to rid her of that, of course. It was really rather touching. Said she loved you, and in the end she was silent, not even a sniffle, when I whipped out my wand. Square shot to chest."  
  
Mouth open, eyes incredulous, the Gryffindor Seeker, Ron's best friend, the Boy Who Lived, the invincible Potter, the bane of Malfoy's existence, the son of James, the boy with the scar, the love of Hermione, the protector of the free wizarding world, the protige of Dumbledore, the.... He was just a boy.  
  
"And now your turn." The wand jabbed him in the chest. "Adieu, Potter. Aveda Ked--oof!"  
  
Now, Guy Wimsdon is a bright, talented wizard. Not the brightest, or the most talented. But definitely high in each area. Had he been able to keep his wand, I imagine he could have performed an impressive curse. Rather, he took a propelling leap off of a box of clipboards and latched himself onto the back of the one and only Dark Lord.  
  
"Harry, here!" Ron's voice snapped him to attention and he caught the wand before he understand; it was Dani's, and Ron was now rummaging for Lexa's. There was no time. Voldemort unhinged Guy and hit him with the Crucacius curse. Harry felt the wand pulsate between his fingers, felt the blood run cold in his veins, felt the last time he ever touched Hermione, and the wand seemed to point itself. All he saw when he performed the curse was Voldemort's back; later he would find out from Nar and Dean that the Dark Lord's eyes had bulged upon hearing the first word with a look of sheer, shocked terror.  
  
"Aveda Kedavra!" Harry screamed, a sob bursting through the words as his voice choked and fell. The green beam shot out like a sprinkler in the summertime--like an innocent, harmless, child's plaything--and pierced the small of his back.  
  
And later it would be told that even after the body crumpled to the floor, and the wand fell from Harry's fingertips, and the deed had been done, Harry Potter still sobbed the words of the curse repeatedly, shaking, only stopping when Dumbledore arrived and found him, placing his hand upon the boy's shoulder with no words of comfort, for what do you say to a boy that everyone wants to be who just lost so much of himself?  
  
And they say that Dumbledore cried too, just a little, when he met Harry's desolate, hopeless eyes before the boy collapsed on the floor, moaning and weeping like a ghost, like the ghost that Harry wished he could slip away as.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry stared down from the ledge of the balcony, his knees threatening to give way under the strain he was forcing upon them. He would be at peace soon; it would be fine.  
  
No more hate, no more mourning, no more spotlight, no more fucking silence. His hands flew to his temples; suddenly, the silence was killing him, killing him quickly, and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't get oxygen. His brain screamed, his knees ached, his temples throbbed, oxygen, oxygen, Hermione, oh god.  
  
"Just do it," he told himself, taking in a raspy breath. "Just do--"  
  
"Harry? Harry, you out there?"  
  
Ron! Harry scrambled to get down, his foot slipping out from under him as he gave his knees slack. He landed hard on the balcony, feeling the bruising from his buttocks to his back. Her journal flashed in sight. Oxygen, oxygen.  
  
Ron appeared in a bathrobe, yawning carelessly--he stopped when he saw Harry splayed on the ground, a tortured expression protruding from his eyes, and crooked his head, suddenly wary--with good reason. "You all right, Harry?"  
  
"Fine," Harry managed to say quietly. "I was just..."  
  
"Just what?" Ron earned no response. "Oh, Harry... you werent..." Ron shot a horrified look at the ledge. "No...!"  
  
"Of course not," Harry snapped. "I was just... reading her notebook." He snatched up the lavender journal and showed it to Ron. "That's all."  
  
Ron still frowned. "All--all right... yeah, it was silly of me, sorry..."  
  
Harry shook his head. "It's fine."  
  
Ron yawned again, leaning against the doorframe. "Go back to bed, Harry, all right? You're worrying me."  
  
Harry forced a smile. He shot a look back at the ledge then pulled his aching body to its feet. "You have no reason to worry, Ron," Harry said. "I'm fine."  
  
"Sure you are," said Ron, throwing back the comforter of his four-poster.  
  
"I am," Harry insisted again. Ron snored.  
  
Harry watched the pale, gauzy curtains flutter against the window, watched the moon dip in the sky and the the world outside. He fell asleep to the hum of the breeze, wondering if there'd be a next time, and if there was a next time, would Ron be there to haplessly stop him? He wondered if Hermione was happy, if she liked heaven, and what she thought of him now. But mostly he fell asleep listening to the oxygen flowing into his lungs, breathing in, breathing out, knowing that for another night he was here on earth. And as his eyes dimmed out the vision of Ron sleeping in the next bed with his hand matted against his hair, Harry thought that maybe that fact wasn't so bad. 


End file.
